


things we lose

by fulana_de_tal (trashsenal)



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, also remember when marvel ret conned the Maximoff/Lehnsherr family? NO ME NEITHER!, maximoff family bullshit, the hogwarts AU no one asked for, yes even in the wizarding world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashsenal/pseuds/fulana_de_tal
Summary: "It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow up to be."- Harry Potter and the Goblet of FireORYoung Avengers Presents: The Hogwarts AU literally NO ONE asked for, but deep down we all need.





	1. there must be a mistake

**Author's Note:**

> pls don't roast me on how I sorted these characters, I actually took the Pottermore quiz for all of them, and these are the results I got based on the characterization (except, well, Billy and Tommy, but they're Slytherins for reasons)

When Billy received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, he’d been watching television with his little brothers. His mother, wearing a confused expression, told him there was someone waiting to see him. That someone happened to be a witch-- a real, live _witch_ \-- that didn’t look at all like the ones people dressed up as for Halloween (granted, she _did_ have a pointy hat).

“You don’t look like a witch.” He’d voiced his doubts about the older woman-- Minerva McGonagall, professor of transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Ministry -- when his mother ushered them into her study.  
  
Though the visitor did not laugh, there was a genuine twinkle in her eye. “And what would a witch look like, Mister Kaplan?”  
  
“Well, green, I think.”

Mrs. McGonagall-- _Professor_ McGonagall-- had smiled, Billy’s mother had nearly fainted from embarrassment, and the weird piece of parchment still clutched in his hand was explained. By the time the older woman finished, Billy’s eyes were glazed over. He _knew_ he had to go. He’d beg his parents, he’d run away and make it on the Hogwarts Express, he’d do _anything._ Surprisingly, considering he currently finds himself waiting for the train on Platform 9 ¾, he didn’t have to do much _of_ anything despite his parent’s initial doubts.

He waves goodbye to his parents and jealous little brothers as the train prepares to leave the station. The people he loved grew smaller as the train accelerated; soon enough, they were out of sight from the compartment window, and he was left alone. For the first time since receiving his acceptance, he doubts if he’d made the right choice. People pass by him in the halls, laughing and surrounded by friends. He glances outwards, and hefts his heavy trunk and owl cage, from where his owl glares at him, onto the seat. He moves  to close the compartment door, but looks up to find a black-haired girl and a tall blonde boy standing in the threshold.

“Is this compartment taken?” The girl asks. There’s something friendly about her, Billy decides. He shakes his head and steps aside for them to get through. The boy smiles at him as he settles in a seat.

“I’m Teddy Altman.” He introduces himself. “And that’s Kate.”  
  
“Nice to-- _ugh!--_ meet you.” Kate struggles to place her trunk in the overhead. Teddy offered his help earlier, but she said she could handle it.

“What’s your name?” Teddy asks.

“I-I’m Billy.” Billy splutters, a bit shocked he was being addressed. He clears his throat. “Billy Kaplan.”  
  
He offers his hand out to Teddy, who took it in his own and squeezed it with a grin. Kate finally managed to get her trunk situated, and plops down next to Teddy. She then sits up, offering Billy a dazzling smile as well as her own hand.

“As mentioned, I’m Kate Bishop.” She has a good grip. Next to her, Teddy makes a choking sound. She frowns, letting go of Billy’s poor hand. “What?”  
  
_“Bishop?”_ The other boy questions. “As in Derek Bishop, owner of the Daily Prophet?”  
  
“Yeah, my dad, why?”  
  
“You’re _rich.”_  
  
It all sounds like gibberish to Billy. Sheepishly, he looks between the two of them and asks, “So, um, you don’t know each other?”  
  
“I didn’t even know her last name till two seconds ago.” Teddy admits, regaining his composure. “Why?”  
  
Because I thought everyone came here with friends, Billy thinks in relief, but didn’t say it in fear of coming off as a loser. Instead, he shrugs. “You looked like friends.”  
  
“Are we?” Teddy turns to Kate.

She nods gravely. “Hogwarts rule number one: anyone that lets you share a compartment is automatically your friend.”  
  
Billy laughs with them much how the people passing outside were laughing with their own.

 

* * *

 

As the first hour of the ride to Hogwarts passed, it became evident to Billy that he had no _clue_ what he was getting him into. The more Teddy and Kate talked about Hogwarts and the magical world, the more he realized it was nothing as he’d stayed up all summer imagining it to be. Once again, he felt lost and confused. 

“What do you think, Billy?” Kate turns towards him during a heated debate with Teddy. “About the national Quidditch team? I think they’re rubbish, but Teddy owns replica _robes.”_  
  
“What’s that?” He furrows his brows. “Quidditch?”  
  
The other two go silent and then exchange a glance. Billy bites his lip. Was that in one of the textbooks? Was there any required reading for the term?

“Billy,” Teddy starts. “Are your parents wizards?”

“My mom’s a psychologist and my dad is a cardiologist.” He shakes his head. “Wow. There’s no way to make that sound cool.”  
  
“You’re a muggleborn.” Kate reasons. “That explains it. Muggles are non-wizards.”

He furrows his brows. “Explains what?”  
  
She laughs. “Not knowing what Quidditch is. Trust me, everyone that knows what it is either loves it or hates it. There’s no in between.”  
  
They spend another hour of their journey talking about Quidditch, Hogwarts, and magical bloodlines. Well-- Kate and Teddy explain while Billy listens and tries to soak it all in. Quidditch is the wizard equivalent of football, Hogwarts sounds even better than he expected, and magical bloodlines mean nothing.

“Some wizards think they’re superior because they don’t have muggles in their families.” Kate explains as she pulls out some golden galleons to pay for their sweets. “They call themselves purebloods. I think that’s stupid. I mean, if you can _do_ magic, what does it matter that your parents were muggles? You can still do magic.”  
  
“That’s why no one wants to be in Slytherin.” Teddy nods, handing Billy a bag of jelly beans. “Most of the idiots are in there.”  
  
“That’s one of the houses, right?” Billy asks, reaching inside the bag and pulling out a handful. He pops one in his mouth-- it tastes exactly like peach cobbler, right down the the buttery flavor. “There’s four, one for each founder of the school? That’s what Professor McGonagall told my mom and I.”  
  
“Correct.” Kate nods, munching on a piece of licorice shaped like a wand. “Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. They’re all pretty decent. Except for Slytherin. It’s a bunch of pureblood bigots, as Teddy said.”  
  
“Most of the dark wizards come from there.” Teddy adds. “It’s no coincidence.”  
  
“Got it.” Billy nods, swallowing another jellybean. The last one tasted like apple cider. “You don’t want to be in Slytherin.”  
  
“Where do you want to be?” Teddy asks both him and Kate. “My parents were both Gryffindors, but I can’t see myself there.”  
  
“I dunno.” Kate shrugs, finishing off her wand. “ _My_ parents are both Ravenclaws, but I’d love to be a Gryffindor. Billy?”

“Gryffindor?” He suggests timidly. “You both talk highly about it.”  
  
“It’s the house of the brave, the noble.” Teddy suddenly stands, placing his fists on his hips in a heroic pose. Billy giggles at his dramatism. “The bold. Every great wizarding hero has bore robes of red and gold, belonging only to the worthy Gryffindor.” He pauses and resumes his seat while Kate claps at his performance. “I think.”

“What does Ravenclaw do?” Billy jokes. “Gryffindor sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“They’re stuck up know-it-alls.” Kate sounds so convinced. “My sister is their prefect. I would know.”

“Um, Hufflepuff?”  
  
“They’re…” Kate frowns. “Right next to the kitchens, I think?”

“That sounds _perfect.”_  
  
Teddy high-fives him. The chocolate frog he’d gotten hops out of its box and onto the window, giving Billy the fright of his life and Kate another good laugh. Teddy gifts him the trading card on the back of the box. On it is a picture of the Hogwarts castle standing proudly on its moor. The lights in the mini castle twinkle up at him, and the lake sloshes with high waves. Billy pockets it and has another jellybean. It tastes like dish soap.

 

* * *

 

The lake on the trading card looks too much like the one in front of the real castle. Billy nearly pukes on the boat ride across the water; the waves lap at his little boat and toss it, as if impatient to greet him. He’s grateful to touch dry, solid land when they reach the doors of Hogwarts, but his bad boating experience is quickly forgotten when they’re led inside the Great Hall. His jaw drops open involuntarily as he tilts his head back to gawk at the ceiling; it looks like the night sky outside, dark and perfect, with even a crescent moon hanging overhead to cast a silver glow on the hundred of tiny candles sparkling above them.

“It’s beautiful.” He mutters to Teddy. He smiles, looking up as well. Kate taps them both to keep them from running into someone as they walk further down the main aisle of the hall.

The last of the first years finally make their way in, and the doors close. An old man with a long white beard,  deep purple robes, and glasses stands at the teacher’s table. The hall, which had previously been buzzing with conversation at each of the four long tables, falls silent almost immediately. The man point his wand at his throat, and his voice fills the Great Hall. He introduces himself as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and welcomes students old and new to the school. He says something else, too, but Billy directs his attention to a three-legged stool in front of the teacher’s table. On it is a hat, like the kind Professor McGonagall had worn the day she visited, that had seen better days.

Suddenly, the hat starts talking, and Billy nearly jumps. Its voice, distinct and melodic, managed to capture the attention of everyone in the room. Billy tries to peer over the broad shoulders of a massive boy that decided to block his view, but he doesn’t need to see the hat to hear it. It rhymes about the four houses, highlight each of their characteristics; Gryffindor for the brave, Hufflepuff for the loyal, Ravenclaw for the wise, Slytherin for the cunning. After hearing Teddy and Kate talk about Slytherin, he doesn’t suppose cunningness is a very good trait.

When Professor McGonagall herself leaves the staff table and begins to announce names, Billy feels himself go numb with excitement. He doesn’t know where he wants to be, only knows that he won’t be in Slytherin because he’s not the least bit cunning, so at least there’s a silver lining.

“Katherine Bishop.” The professor calls, peering sharply at the group of first years crowded before her.

Billy nudges Kate. “Good luck.”  
  
She flashes him a grin before making her way to the front of the crowd, which shifts enough for him to see. The hat sits neatly atop her black hair. Its animated features convert into a pensive expression. She glances up at it.

 _“GRYFFINDOR!”_  
  
When the table to his right erupts into cheers, Billy can’t help but join them. Kate beams when she takes a seat next to an older boy with bright red hair. Teddy flashes her a thumbs up.

“Elijah Bradley.”  
  
The crowd parts for a lanky, serious-looking boy. The hat seems to smile as soon as it touches his head.

 _“RAVENCLAW!”_  
  
Billy claps, noticing how he looked a little less stiff sitting down at his new house table. Professor McGonagall calls out another name, the hat decides where it goes, people cheer, and the cycle repeats till there’s around ten people left. Billy bounces nervously on his heels, praying he isn’t the last one.

“Theodore Altman.”

“Wish me luck.” Teddy takes a deep breath. Billy watches intently as the hat thinks. The other boy licks his lips, waiting for a verdict.

_“HUFFLEPUFF!”_

Before Billy can weigh the benefits of having a dorm so close to the kitchens, his name is called. He makes his way towards the stool rapidly, balling his hands into tight fists and hiding them in the long sleeves of his robes. The hat smells like his grandmother’s closet.

_“Hello, William.”_

His eyes go wide and he looks around, looking for the source of the voice. He hears a chuckle.

_“It’s just me, William, your friend the Sorting Hat. I’m in your mind. Let’s see… Clever. Loyal. Brave. Ambitious. I could place you anywhere and you would succeed tremendously.”_

Not Slytherin, he thinks, wondering if the hat heard him. I don't want to be in Slytherin.

 _“No Slytherin, eh?”_  The hat continues. _“Why not?”_

It’s full of dark wizards, he counters, and bigots. They wouldn't like me there because I'm muggleborn.

_“Ah, but it runs in the blood.”_

His… Family?

My parents are muggles, he thinks, they’ve never even been to Hogwarts. I’m the only one.

_“A fact you're proud of and willing to succeed on. You will be a great wizard, William, as fate tells. It runs in the blood, as I said.”_

Would it be against the rules to take the hat off? He considers it, but ultimately stays put. The entirety of the Great Hall seems to have their eyes glued to him. He scans the crowd for Teddy or Kate, but he can't focus enough.

_“Well… I can’t keep you waiting for too long.”_

_“SLYTHERIN!”_

The table to the right of Gryffindor’s cheers. Above it hangs a silver and green banner sporting a rearing serpent. Professor McGonagall plucks the hat off his head and sends him off with a concerned look. He stumbles towards the Slytherin table in a daze, sure there's been a mistake. One of the older students, a prefect, makes room for him on the bench. Numbly, he takes a seat. There _has_ to be a mistake.

_“SLYTHERIN!”_

The hat’s voices jars him rudely back to reality. The last student to be sorted-- a skinny boy with strange white hair and cold green eyes-- quickly makes his way to the Slytherin table. _His_ table. The other boy sits next to him, but Billy doesn’t pay him any mind.

There _has_ to be a mistake.


	2. where worth is defined

Dear mom and dad,  


_Hogwarts is really beautiful. It's just as you’d imagine it-- an ancient castle sitting on a Scottish moor, overlooking a lake. I’ve attached a picture for you all to look at. Well, it’s really a trading card a friend gave me. Don’t be shocked when the picture moves, okay?_

_I’m doing fine. I got sorted into Slytherin house, but I’m going to ask if I can be placed somewhere else. Slytherin is the House where all the dark wizards come from, by the way. That's why I want to change. And the rooms are in the dungeons, and the dungeons are beneath the lake, so there's a lot of moisture. It’s a bit ugly. I’ll try to go for Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw’s up in one of the towers of the castle, and my friend Kate tells me their common room overlooks the lake and the mountains. My other friend Teddy is in Hufflepuff and their rooms are right next to the kitchens. Also, Ravenclaw prizes intelligence and Hufflepuff values fairness. I think they're loads better than Slytherin._

_My classes start today. I have Potions first thing in the morning after breakfast, then Charms, then Herbology. Tomorrow I have Defense against the Dark arts, Transfiguration, and History of Magic. I’m really excited to learn about all this magic. It seems really interesting._

_Love you lots. I can't wait to be home for break._  


_Love,_

_Billy_

_P.S: Were there any wizards besides me in the family? Just wondering._

 

Billy sets his quill down, blows on the parchment to dry the ink, and tightly rolls it up. He gets up from the Slytherin table and pulls his schedule out of his satchel, but ends up looking wistfully towards the Hufflepuff table. Teddy sits there, surrounded by a group of other first years, laughing at something someone else said. Billy bites his lip and starts heading out of the Great Hall, but Teddy sees him and waves him over enthusiastically.

“Billy!” He beams at him when he gets to the Hufflepuff table. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”

Billy nods. “Uh, yeah. I guess. And you?”

“My room is really cool.” Teddy nods. “And so are my roommates. This is Cassie, by the way. Cassie meet Billy, Billy meet Cassie.”

He introduces him to the small blonde girl sitting to his left. She smiles and waves at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He replies a bit awkwardly, glancing back at his own table. “Um, is it against the rules to sit at another house table?”

Teddy and Cassie exchange a glance. Cassie frowns. “I think our prefect said something against it last night.”

“Oh.” Billy’s heart drops. “In that case, I guess I’ll see you guys in class.”

He dismisses himself sheepishly and leaves the Great Hall. Ahead of him, heading up the stairs, he spots a shiny black pony tail.

“Kate!” He calls, feeling a little hopeful again. “Kate!”

Kate stops and turns around. She races down the stairs, but a tall girl with tight dark curls and tan skin follows her.

“Billy!” She exclaims when she reaches him. “There you are! I was looking for you, I wanted to see your schedule to know if we have any classes together.”

“Here.” He hands his schedule to her, letting her scan it over quickly. The girl with the dark girls stands behind Kate with her arms across her chest. She's chewing bubblegum.

“I’m America.” She introduces herself to him, blowing a bright pink bubble.

“Billy.”

“America’s in my dorm.” Kate says, handing him back his schedule after comparing it with hers. “Neither of us could sleep last night, so we stayed up talking about quidditch. Also, it looks like we have transfiguration and defense against the dark arts together. Sucks we don't have potions, though, I’m with the other group of Gryffindors.”

“Yeah?” Billy tries to smile, but can't help but feel defeated again. “That's cool. I’ll see you then, then?”

Kate grins. “You bet.” She turns to America. “Let's go to charms. We can't be late on the first day of class.”

America jokingly scoffs at that, but follows her nonetheless. Kate calls out a goodbye, and Billy waves halfheartedly before moping his way down to the dungeons for Potions.

 

* * *

 

Professor Snape is a greasy-looking man who always looks like he just sucked on a lemon. As he called roll, Billy finds himself wondering if the man ever smiles, because he definitely doesn't seem the type. The sallow dungeon lights only make him look more unfriendly. It makes Billy reconsider speaking to his head of House after class.

“Shepherd.” Professor Snape calls, still taking roll. “Thomas Shepherd.”

There's a silence. Thomas Shepherd seems to be late.

“Thomas Shepherd.” Professor Snape repeats, this time more forcefully, looking up at the class. “If you do not say ‘present, Professor Snape’, I will mark you absent--”

“I’m here!”

The dungeon door opens to reveal the skinny boy with white hair, the last one to be sorted. He’s in his dorm. He looks as if he just woke up.

“ _Present,_ Professor Snape.” The professor corrects him icily. “Take a seat next to Kaplan in the back. Quickly. You've already distracted the class.”

Thomas Shepherd pulls the chair next to Billy’s out and take a seat. He fidgets. A lot. Taps his quill against the desk, taps his foot against the ground, reaches up to mess with his hair, chews on a hangnail, huffs impatiently at everything Professor Snape says. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes. Billy feels all the life drain out of him when the professor announces that the person they're sitting next to is their cauldron partner for the year.

For their first lesson, they're to learn types of vials and cauldrons. When Professor Snape asks-- more like dares-- anyone if they know what the one sitting at his desk is called, a hand from the Gryffindor side of the room shoots up. Billy can't focus on the what the answer is, though, because of his cauldron partner’s excessive fidgeting. He shoots Thomas Shepherd a filthy looking, hoping he’ll catch it.

He doesn't,

Billy huffs.

“Is there a problem, Mister Kaplan?”

Billy’s blood goes cold when Snape calls his name. He swallows, shaking his head. “No, Professor Snape.”

The man fixes him with a look, and continues droning on about cauldron alloys. Billy tries to scoot his chair away from Thomas. Before he knows it, though, he's slumped over his desk. He didn't sleep much last night. In fact, all he could think about was what the Sorting Hat said. He's been thinking it over since then, and still hasn't made any sense of it. Groggily, he picks up his head. Then, alarmingly and dismayingly, notices that his cauldron partner is practically _draped_ over his arm, sound asleep.

“Mate.” He mutters. “Seriously--?”

_“Mister Kaplan.”_

Professor Snape’s voice is cold enough to freeze the lake over. Billy jolts up in his seat, fully awake.

“If you would be ever so kind to stop your ploy for attention and join my class,” The professor nearly sneers. “I would appreciate it greatly.”

The class had turned back to look at him. His face is hot, and Thomas Shepherd is still using him as a pillow. A couple of the girls giggle. The blonde boy in front of them turns back, and sneers with almost as much contempt as their teacher.

When class finally ends, Billy practically shoves the sleeping boy off him. Thomas wakes with a start, and scowls at him. His green eyes look hard in the dim green lighting.

“Wanker.” The other boy spits, getting up and slinking out of the class before Billy could defend himself. He sighs, gathering his quill and blank parchment.

“Kaplan. A word.”

Professor Snape blocks his exit. Billy wishes he’d drowned on the boat ride to the castle.

“Yes, Professor Snape?”

“You disrupted my class not once, but twice today.” He starts, looking down at him over his hooked nose. “Normally, this would call for extracurricular punishment, but since I am ever-so-gracious, I will look the other way just this once. You have been warned.”  
  
More like threatened, Billy thinks. He clears his throat, trying to expel what he’d been meaning to ask someone since last night. “Yes, Professor Snape.” He pauses, earning him a cool eyebrow raise. “Professor Snape, I have a question?”   
  
“What is it?”   
  
“Has anyone ever been… Re-sorted at Hogwarts? As in, they got placed into one House, but realized it’s not for them, and--”   
  
“I know what you mean, Mister Kaplan.” His head of house cuts him off. “Do you find yourself in this situation?”   
  
He sighs. “I really don’t think I belong here.”   
  
The man doesn’t say anything for a second, only scrutinizes him with his dark eyes. Finally, and with utmost frigidity, he says, “It is an honor and privilege to be sorted into Slytherin House. You do not decide your worth here, because the house does so for you. Get to class.”   
  
Billy scurries off without being told twice.

 

* * *

 

The week trudges on. He has classes with Kate and Teddy, but they have new friends now from their own houses. Billy hovers around Teddy and his Hufflepuffs in Herbology and astronomy, but notices how he seems to blend into the background. He does the same with Kate and America in transfiguration and defense against the dark arts. He mailed his letter off with his owl on Monday, and had yet to receive a reply from his family.

Hogwarts, up till this point, kind of sucked.

He silently makes his way to the lawn for flying lessons. Most of Slytherin and Gryffindor were already there-- Thomas “I’m Late For Every Class” Shepherd included. Billy huffs at the sight of him.

Kate waves to him, but Madame Hooch blows the whistle to signal the start of class before he can interact with her. Everyone lines up behind a broom.

Before his arrival at Hogwarts, he'd seen brooms as any other muggle would: an average cleaning utensil occasionally used by old women to threaten children. Of course, though, nothing about these brooms is “average”; he watches in frustration as other people around him have managed to get their brooms off the ground and into their outstretched hands. He wiggles his fingers, willing the handle towards him. Finally, after about twenty tries, it happens. He smiles.

Now another story is mounting it.

Kate had been one of the first to mount her broom. Judging from their conversation on the Hogwarts Express, this wasn't her first time. America, too, looked pretty comfortable on hers, and to his left, Thomas Shepherd brags about being Slytherin’s future seeker.

Whatever that means.

“I’m fast.” Thomas gloats to the girl on his other side. He hovers above the ground, one foot sunk in the wet grass to keep himself anchored. “Like, really fast. Slytherin will win the Cup every year when I’m on the team.”

“I hope he can afford a good broom, though.” A blond boy-- the same one with the contemptuous sneer from potions-- snickers loudly. “Otherwise, we’re doomed.”

Some other Slytherin laugh along with him. Billy notices out of the corner of his eye how Thomas’ fists curl tightly around the handle of the broom.

“Father bought me a Nimbus Two-Thousand as an incentive to make the team.” The blond boy continues. Billy wonders if he's just loud or if he wants everyone to hear him. “It’s the latest model, you know, the best money can buy. Surely it’s better than this rubbish they're making us practice on. Father says the school can't afford to upgrade. Do you know what else my father says?” Billy doesn't like the way he’s smirking. “He doesn't think poor purebloods should count as purebloods. It's one thing to have status, but it's another thing to have _pedigree--”_

“Mister Malfoy.” Madame Hooch blows her whistle at him. “Enough, please.”

The boy doesn't look pleased at being told off. He haughtily scoffs, and continues bragging, but in a much softer volume. Billy keeps his eye on Thomas. He doesn't look too bothered, but the way he chews angrily on his lip reminds Billy all too much of himself.


	3. i think you're quite nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if the formatting is rough for this-- I'm editing on my phone!!

_Dear Billy,_

_I’m extremely saddened to hear about you not getting sorted into the right House. After what you've told me about Slytherin, I really hope you get placed elsewhere. Dark wizards. I nearly snorted reading that, but then realized it's a very real thing, isn't it? Anyways, I just want you to be happy. And I want you to remember that you can come home any time you want. Your old school would be glad to have you back. I’ve sent some cookies with your owl. I do hope the poor guy can handle it-- it's a pretty big tin. Maybe you can share with your new friends. I can't wait to see you for the holidays._

_Love you lots,  
Mom_

_P.S: I think you’re our only family wizard. Makes you feel special, doesn’t it?_

The cookies taste magical, no pun intended. His mom hadn't lied when she said it was a pretty big tin; he'd have cookies till after they reached their expiration date. Too bad he doesn't really have any friends to share with, since they all seemed to prefer people from their own houses. So much for being friends with people you share your compartment with. That, and no one really likes Slytherins. He can tell. The rest of the school seems to distrust the House of Salazar, and Billy doesn't blame them. Slytherins don’t even like Slytherins; there's so many cliques within the house itself-- within his class-- that it makes him long for his private school in the muggle world. At least the bullies there didn't have magic powers, though. That was the only plus.

He sits on his bed doing homework in his empty dorm. Professor Snape liked to assign too much, as did Professor Bins. The latter was a ghost, but he still (unfortunately) taught the very class he'd passed in. One would think having a ghost as a teacher would automatically make a class interesting, but History of Magic is more of a chance to take a nap than it is a class. He yawns, setting his quill down and reaching for another cookie. It tastes like home.

The door opens. Billy looks up to see Thomas Shepherd enter. He attempts a wave at him.

“Cookie?” He offers, holding the tin out. Thomas pauses, narrowing his eyes at him, before reaching in and grabbing one. He retreats to his bed.

It's then, when Billy finally cares to look, that he notices how skinny the other boy is. His robes cling awkwardly to him not because he's small like Billy, but because he's just so lean that they don't fit correctly. They're patched in several places, too, and the sleeves have strings hanging off them. The books sitting on his nightstand look as threadbare as the rest of his possessions. Billy all of a sudden feels bad to be sitting in his new robes, with his new books, and with a huge tin of sweets.

“You can have another one,” He says timidly. “Um, if you want. My mom said I should share.”

Thomas raises a brow at him before sliding off his bed and taking him up on the offer. Billy clears his throat.

“I'm sorry about Potions.” He starts. “That was really rude of me.”

“‘S okay.” Thomas says around his mouthful of cookie. “I didn't really care too much.”

He eats like his mom has never made him homemade cookies. Billy winces, thinking back to what that Malfoy boy said yesterday, something about how poor purebloods shouldn't be considered purebloods at all. He wants to ask about that, but doesn't want to push any boundaries.

“I’m Billy Kaplan, by the way.” He says. “I never really introduced myself to you. Well, my full name is William, but I prefer Billy.”

“Tommy.” Thomas nods, dusting crumbs off his hands. “I don’t like Thomas.”

* * *

Billy often finds himself reading. Whether it be his textbooks or stuff plucked from the enchanted shelves of the library, he’s always got some sort of text to entertain himself with. It’s what he did in the muggle world when he felt lonely-- which was embarrassingly often-- but he’d since traded out his comic books for fantasy that, in this world, isn’t really fantasy.

“Billy, hi.”

He sets down his copy of Fantastic Beasts when Teddy greets him. They’re in a few classes together, but Billy doesn’t want to be a third or sometimes fourth wheel with his Hufflepuff friends. Still, the company is welcome. He musters a smile. “Hello.”

“This is a nice tree.” Teddy notes with a grin, looking up at the large canopy of reds, yellows, and oranges. “Good spot to read.”

Billy scoots over, his back scraping against the trunk. “There’s room to share.”

It’s then he notices that he’s not with his friends. Teddy sits down next to him, and offers him jellybeans from the bag he’d dug out of his pocket. Billy wrinkles his nose.

“The last one of those I tried tasted like soap.” He reaches into the bag anyways. “I’ve been ruined.”

“They are every flavor.” Teddy laughs. “Although not every good flavor. So, what’s up? You don’t really talk to us in Herbology.”

Yeah, us. His friends are nice enough, but Billy can’t bring himself to socialize. Secretly, he thinks everyone turns their nose up at him because of his green and silver tie. And maybe they’re not wrong to.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, though not sure for what.

“Are you… Okay?”

“I’m fine.”

It’s a giant lie. He feels like he doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t feel like he belongs anywhere. He’s got the weight of what the Sorting Hat said hanging over him. He wants to go home.

“Hey.” Teddy all of a sudden looks him directly in the eyes. “If this is about your Sorting, you shouldn’t feel bad about it. Kate and I talked about it. We shouldn’t have said all those things about Slytherin.”

He still talks to Kate? Billy scoffs. “You wouldn’t have known I was gonna be sorted into it.”

  
“I mean, Slytherin has its qualities.” Teddy continues amicably. “They’re really resourceful. And ambitious. They’re probably second to Ravenclaws when it comes to cleverness. Not everyone there is bad, you know? They just get a bad rep.”

He thinks back to what the Sorting Hat said about how he dark wizards run in the family-- “run in the blood”-- and feels sick again. It makes absolutely zero sense; his muggle family couldn’t have any dark wizards.

“The Sorting Hat said… Something.” He starts slowly, unsure why he’s even telling this to anyone. “When it was sorting me. It was really weird.”

Teddy furrows his brow. “What was it?”

“I was asking it not to put me in Slytherin.” He explains, his fists once again curling up into his sleeves. “And it asked why not. I said because it’s where all the dark wizards are. This is where it gets weird-- then, it tells me that dark wizardry runs in the blood. I’ve got dark wizards in my family.”

He looks up at Teddy. The other boy doesn’t look horrified or disgusted, but just confused. “But you’re muggleborn.”

“I know. That’s what I said, but then it just sorted me into Slytherin, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“That’s… Really weird, you’re right.” Teddy finally decides. “I didn’t know the Sorting Hat even said stuff like that. It just told me that I’m right to want to be in Hufflepuff.”

“I asked my mom about it.” Billy keeps going, too in his head to stop now. “About if there were any wizards in our family. She doesn’t think so. I just…” He sighs, giving up. He looks at Teddy. “Teddy, do you think maybe I’m in Slytherin for a reason? I asked Professor Snape about changing Houses, just to ask, and he said Slytherin House decides the worth of each of its students, not the other way around. I know we don’t know each other all that well, but… Do you think that… I’m here because I’m like the rest of them? The Slytherins?”

“I think you’re quite nice.” Teddy offers. Billy scoffs.

“I’m pretty sure people said Morgan le Fay, or whomever, was nice.” He snorts, referring to one of the witches in his history of magic textbook. “Um, can you not spread this around, by the way? I don’t really have friends as it is, and I think even the Slytherins would freak if they knew I’m supposedly descended from dark wizards.”

“Of course.” Teddy nods, looking him straight-on again-- a genuine gesture. “And Billy, I’m your friend. We established that on the Hogwarts Express, remember?

He can't help but smile at that. “Thanks, Teddy.”

“Of course, Bee.” Teddy then claps his hand over his mouth. “Oh, wow, sorry. I don't know if you're okay with nicknames.”

Billy laughs for the first time in what feels like ages. “I am. Tee.”


	4. but you definitely act as if the world owes you something

The crisp fall quickly became a bitter winter with long snowy nights and frigid mornings. The potions dungeon feels even colder and damper than it did in the start of the term; it's so cold that Billy keeps his scarf on throughout the class. His stiff fingers struggle to quickly scrawl notes in his book about how to prepare a proper Wiggenweld potion. Next to him, Thomas-- _Tommy_ \-- Shepherd picks at a scab on his hand.

Billy hasn't interacted much with him since sharing his tin of cookies; the other boy just doesn't really seem to care for company. Since then, he's assigned himself as their notetaker in potions-- partially because Tommy’s writing looks like chicken scratch, but mostly because he can pay attention to Professor Snape long enough to retain all information. That task is a difficult one, however, as the winter holidays are just around the corner, and no one wants to spend the day before break learning about the multiple uses of sloth brain. Billy tries his hardest to give Professor Snape his undivided attention, but when he looks down at his notes he finds nothing but senseless doodles of sloths and menorahs. Tommy looks over at his notebook and snorts.

For their final assignment before the break, they're to separate the mucus from sloth brains. When Professor Snape sets a jar of the things on their table, Billy can't help but glance down at the cute sloths he’d doodled during the professor’s lecture. The black-haired man seems to notice, too, and nearly smirks before moving on to the next table.

“Nasty,” He mutters, opening the jar. Tommy peers over his shoulder with a wrinkled nose.

“I’m not touching that.” The other boy declares.

“Yes, you are.” Billy insists. “It’s graded on effort from both of us.”

“Well, then I’m putting forth minimal effort and you can do the rest.”

Billy opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it. He reaches into the jar of sloth brains and pulls one out, already feeling sick to his stomach. Through the strainer, thick ribbons of mucus trickle down from the gelatinous pink mush and into the bowl they're supposed to collect it in. As Billy gets their work done, Tommy watches with morbid fascination.

“Do they feel weird?” He prompts, chin on his hand and elbow on the table. “The brains?”

“Like Play-Doh.”

Tommy blinks. “What’s that?”

“It's, um, a muggle toy.” Billy explains. “It's just this really squishy putty stuff, smells kinda weird."

“You’re a m--”

 _“Of_ course he is.”

Draco Malfoy sits straddling his chair, making sure he's facing them. Billy remembers him fondly from their first flying lesson; he’d first made fun of Tommy, and then cruelly stolen a Gryffindor’s remembrall as a joke. It's not the first impression Billy would want to make, but he has a feeling that Draco Malfoy doesn't care.

“Just look at him.” Malfoy’s sharp grey eyes light up coldly, “Can’t even do this assignment right. Is your mommy still sending you cookies, Kaplan?”

It's a well-known fact that Malfoy’s mother sends him care packages full of cakes and candy every week. That very fact sits ardently on the tip of Billy’s tongue, but he simply ignores him and returns to the sloth brains in front of him. There isn’t a way to strain the mucus from a sloth brain incorrectly, he's sure of it, but Draco’s cauldron partner-- an ogre of a boy named Crabbe-- seems to be struggling.

“This coming from the prat that threw a fit when _his_ mommy sent the family owl a day late.”

Tommy Shepherd throws Malfoy a look filthiest than the one Malfoy himself treated Billy to. The corners of Tommy’s lips turn up into a mocking grin, but his eyes tell a different story. Billy again thinks back to that flying lesson, where Malfoy had said something about poor purebloods not being real purebloods. Tommy’s secondhand potions book sits forgotten at his corner of their desk.

For a second, Malfoy looks taken aback; as if he can't believe a boy with patched robes and an old wand landed that blow. Then, he regains the nasty look that says he can't believe a boy with patched robes and an old wand is _talking_ to him.

“Watch your mouth, Shepherd.” He sneers. “You can't afford to look like a blood traitor.”

Tommy grabs his wand, but Billy kicks his shin and just glares at Malfoy. “Stop.”

“I don't take orders from mudbloods.” He snickers haughtily, and then sizes them up. “Look at you. The two biggest losers in Slytherin house-- a filthy mudblood and a dirty poor blood traitor.”

The way Malfoy looks at him reminds Billy of how predators look at their prey. It's a look Billy knows too well; for years, he'd been on the receiving end of cruelty from other children. It doesn't matter that this world has moving pictures and enchanted ceilings-- bullies are bullies, magical or not. That wouldn't ever change. But now he can stand up to them.

He has _magic._

He fights the urge to shrink away. Malfoy keeps talking. “-- and neither of you belong here, anyways. We wouldn't want you to think otherwise, right Cr--”

And then it happens: the jar of sloth brains explodes. Billy’s hands fly up to cover himself, sure he’d end up with a faceful of glass and brains otherwise, but nothing hits him. Next to him, Tommy appears unscathed as well.

_“My eyes!!!!”_

In front of them, Draco Malfoy screams and covers his face. His blonde hair practically _drips_ with sloth brain fluid. The entire class goes silent with the first of his screams, and as a result thirty pairs of eyes fixed themselves on Billy and Tommy. Billy unclenches his hands, unaware they were even fists to begin with.

“Professor Snape!” Malfoy wails, hands still covering his eyes. “Professor Snape!”

Snape swoops out of his office, black cloak swirling behind him, like a bat. Billy pales when he briskly makes his way over to the back of the class. His usual disgust veers on actual anger.

“Malfoy, what happened?” He asks shortly, and all the while staring maliciously at Billy and Tommy.

“Those two!” Malfoy points straight at them, his finger practically bumping Billy’s nose, with astonishing accuracy for someone who’d taken glass to the eyes. “Kaplan threw the jar of brains at me!”

“ _I_ am not part of this--” Tommy starts indignantly, but Snape cuts him off with a look which he then directs at Billy.

“I didn't do anything!” Billy exclaims. “I didn't throw anything!”

“Professor, will I go blind?” Malfoy asks too innocently. Billy’s blood boils. “I-I can’t see--”

“Explain why Malfoy is soaked in brain fluid, then.” Snape hisses at Billy, completely ignoring Malfoy. “Or do glass jars fly now, Kaplan?”

With Snape glaring holes into him, Billy can't find words. Where is that streak of resistance he’d had when Malfoy was running his mouth?

“My office.” Snape’s voice is dangerously soft. “Both of you. Now.”

“I don't have anything to do with this!” Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “Why me?”

“ _Both_ of you.”

“But--”

“Fifty points from Slytherin.”

“You’re our head--”

“ _One hundred_ points from Slytherin.”

The rest of the Slytherins began jeering, shouting at him to stop. Billy follows Tommy into Snape’s office, feeling dizzy.

 

* * *

 

Cleaning the trophy room is _not_ how Billy wanted his last night at Hogwarts before the holidays. This is just the beginning, though; since Professor Snape can’t retain them in the castle for the holidays, he only promised their punishment would harshen after the break. Billy can’t even _imagine_ how much worse it’ll get-- he’s been scrubbing at some plaque from the 1970's for a bit now, but for some reason it still has spots. He suspects the head of House may have something to do with it.

His friends are probably in the library right now, spending some time together before parting for a couple of weeks. He supposes he can call Teddy, Kate, and the few others in their little group his “friends”, since they let him hang out with them. He’d told the other boy to relay the message to the group.

“You threw sloth brains at Draco Malfoy?” Teddy had hissed at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“I didn’t do _anything_ to him.” Billy had insisted, but nervously gauged Teddy for a reaction. “The jar just exploded on him.”

“That’s a shame. He’s awful.”  
  
That had made Billy laugh. Malfoy had worked what happened to his advantage, much to no one’s surprise. By lunchtime, he’d fabricated a tragic tale of how some nasty mudblood-- “honestly, he’s not far from a squib”-- had stupidly tried to strain the sloth brains with magic, but because he was so dim, the entire jar exploded and left a noble Malfoy injured. Apparently Madame Pomfrey had sent him back from the infirmary within five minutes.

After another five minutes of scrubbing, Billy is finally able make out the name on the plaque. It reads:

 _Wanda Lehnsherr_  
_Slytherin_ _  
Head Girl, 1974-1975_

 

Well, Wanda Lehnsherr, whoever she is and wherever she is, has a lot to thank him for. Now onto the next twenty or so before he can call it a night. On the other side of the room, Tommy scrubs at the Quidditch trophies. Sighing softly, Billy decides to take a break from cleaning plaques to look at some of the framed publications and pictures hanging on the wall. Most of them are _Daily Prophet_ articles about high-achieving alumni that broke the ranks of the Ministry of Magic, or became famous Quidditch players. There’s some pictures of alumni, too, wearing their Hogwarts robes and House colors. A picture that catches his eye is that of an older boy with white hair wearing green Quidditch robes and a triumphant smirk. In one hand he holds a golden snitch, showing it off to the camera with its wings flitting wildly, and in the other the Quidditch cup. The caption tells him the boy’s name is Pietro Lehnsherr and that he was the Slytherin House Quidditch captain and Seeker in the year of 1974-- the last year Slytherin won the Cup. Maybe he's related to Wanda. Billy bets these two examples of Slytherin excellence are purebloods, and yet again wonders if he’s beat before even starting the race.

Tommy curses loudly after dropping the duster he'd been using to dust shelves. Billy glances back at him, white hair gleaming under the yellow light, and then back at the boy in the picture. His brows furrow as he realizes there's a weird resemblance between the two.

“Hey, Tommy--” He starts, but Tommy cuts him off.

“Don’t talk to me, Kaplan.”

He frowns. “Um, sorry?”

Tommy descends his ladder and then turns to look at Billy with a scowl. “ _Sorry_ doesn't make up for the fact that I’m here when I didn't even do anything.”

“Hey.” Billy crosses his arms over his chest. “You provoked him.”

Tommy snorts. “Well, _sorry_ I don't just let people walk all over me. You should learn.”

“I think I did!” Billy suddenly exclaims, eyes flashing in anger. “That jar didn't explode on accident, did it?”

“Huh?”

“I don't even know why I’m telling you this,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But… I think I did it. I’ve dealt with bullies my whole life, and now I can finally do something to shut them down. I don't know how I did it, but I was just so angry, and… Yeah.”

Tommy keeps scowling. “Okay, and? That's magic. We can all do it. But _I_ shouldn't be here just because you did.”

Billy feels his own mouth twist into a sneer. It’s his magic, not anyone else’s. His. “Do you think I want to spend the day before break in here stuck with you?”

The other boy goes silent at that. Billy steels himself. Then, he starts laughing. “Oh, poor you. Poor little rich boy gets to go home for the holidays after this. How _sad.”_

“I’m not rich--” Billy starts, but Tommy doesn't let him continue.

“I don't care.” He scoffs. “You have a family to go back to. They want you there. Guess where I’m spending Christmas?” He stomps his foot, pointing at the ground. “Yup. That's right. But poor you.”

Billy fumbles for a comeback, but he knows he doesn't have one. Looking at Tommy, it's easy to tell he doesn't come from much, but now it seems like he has nothing to _go_ to. If Billy’s own mother knew about the situation, she’d make him invite Tommy over for the holidays in an instant, but that's exactly the type of thing he thinks the other boy would resent. Suddenly, Billy feels as privileged and ignorant as Draco Malfoy.

“Whatever.” Tommy rolls his eyes and turns to climb back up the ladder. “You may not be one of them, but you definitely act like the world owes you something.”


	5. might as well be twins

_Dear Billy,_

 

 _Happy Christmas! I really hope this letter arrives on time, because otherwise that last line would be awkward. Thank you so much for sending those Muggle toys with your letter. I showed them to my mother, and she thinks the rubber ducks are really cute. I really enjoyed the comic books you sent. I think I may have to beg mom for a subscription. Did your family like all the wizard candy you bought for them? Tell them I recommend the chocolate frogs. Oh, and I hope they like Christmas pudding, because mom made me send some with our owl (it’s really quite good, even though it sticks a bit to your mouth,_ and _I_ promise _it’ll still be edible by the time it gets to your house). I also sent my own owl with your gift, so expect her, too!_ __  
__  
_Love,_  
Teddy

 

* * *

 

_Dear Teddy,_

 

 _YOU GOT ME A COLLECTOR’S EDITION OF_ THE TALES OF BEEDLE THE BARD????!!!!!! _THEODORE!! You have to let me make this up to you. That’s it-- I’m putting you on a comics subscription. Also, tell your mom that my mom said the Christmas pudding was delicious, and that she hopes she enjoys the bottle of wine she’s making my poor owl send. Honestly, Merry’s gonna end up with a hunch from the weight he’s been carrying this past week or so. He nearly passed out when he got back from Kate’s manor out in the country; she sent with him a scarf for me, and_ so much _wizard food for my family. Anyways, thank you so much for everything. Have a happy new year, and I’ll see you in January!_ __  
  
_P.S: I’m Jewish. I don’t celebrate Christmas._

_Love,  
Billy_

 

* * *

 

_Dear Tommy,_

 

Billy crumples the papers before writing anything else.

 

* * *

 

Though his break had been enjoyable, Billy finds himself missing Hogwarts-- something he didn't think possible after his first couple of months. He bids goodbye to his family at King’s Cross and boards the train back to school rather quickly. In fact, he hates that he's a little relieved to be headed back to Hogwarts; the Sorting Hat’s chidings loomed over him like a storm cloud the entire break, making it weird for him to enjoy spending time with his all-too-normal _muggle_ family.

He feels strangely at place in the full compartment he shares with Teddy, Cassie, America, Eli from Ravenclaw, and a boy named Nate also from Ravenclaw. They're all comparing their holidays; Kate tells them how her mother enchanted the ceilings in the Bishop family manor to snow, and Cassie shares her New Year’s experience in New York. Billy tells him about Hanukkah at his house, how his mom makes the best latkes and how his little brother conned him out of a bag of chocolate coins when they played dreidel. Teddy tells him his mother was delighted with the wine, and plans to send a bottle of firewhiskey next.

He’s alone with Tommy in their room after their roommates decide to stay up in the Slytherin common room to talk to their friends. The other boy hadn't talked to him since before the break, and had made no efforts to acknowledge him otherwise. In the bottom of Billy’s trunk sits a little gift bag containing muggle candy and a tube of a Play-Doh. He’d had a hard time writing a letter to him, but picking up small gifts had been easy. Maybe it was his conscience.

“Hi, Tommy.” He approaches his bed after getting the gift bag. His curtains are drawn shut. “How were your holidays?”

He doesn’t even part his curtains. “Better than they would've been at home.”

Billy winces. “Um, I brought you a gift.”

There's some shuffling, and Tommy peers out of his curtains with a scowl that isn't so much as a scowl as it is an attempt. Billy holds the bag out unceremoniously for him to take.

“What is it?” Tommy asks, eyeing the bag.

“Open it.”

He finally takes it and opens it carefully. Billy doesn't know what his home life is like, but the meticulous way he unties the shiny string keeping it shut makes him think that he doesn't get things like these often. Tommy reaches inside the bag and pulls out the tube of Play-Doh, frowning. “What’s this?”

“Remember what I said the sloth brains felt like?” Billy prompts. “Well, that’s the stuff. And, oh,” He rushes back to his trunk. “My mom also baked some cookies for you.”

“You told your mom about me?” Tommy narrows his eyes but accepts the tin of baked goods nonetheless. “Why?”

“I just told her you really liked her baking.” Billy shrugs. “She was happy to oblige.”

Tommy looks down at the items at his bed again. Billy wrings his hands. Then, Tommy looks up at him with perhaps the nicest look he can muster.

“Thanks, Kaplan.”

* * *

 

The ceilings of the greenhouses sit dormant and snow-covered in the distance. Billy trudges through the snow with Tommy and Teddy. He's grateful for the thick, woolen scarf Kate had given him for the holidays as the a cold wind blows through the grounds. He looks over at Tommy; the other boy’s nose and cheeks are pink from the cold, and his unruly hair blows into his eyes. Billy thinks back to the picture of that alumni he’d found in the trophy room.

“Hey, mudblood!”  
  
A cold, wet something flies into Billy’s back, nearly knocking the wind out of him and causing him to stumble forward. He whips around and reaches for his wand. Draco Malfoy stands a couple feet behind them with his two big, ugly friends. The snowball he holds in his gloved hand serves as testament to the one that perished against Billy’s cloak. Tommy snarls and swoops down to grab a handful of snow. Meanwhile, Teddy squares his shoulders and stands next to Billy.

“Leave us alone, Malfoy!” Teddy shouts over the wind. Tommy pats down on his snowball menacingly.

“Or what, Altman?” Malfoy taunts gleefully, tossing his snowball into the air. “What are you gonna do, tattle on me?”  
  
Teddy’s ears turn red. Tommy had set down his first snowball in order to make more. Billy’s tempted to, but instead draws out his wand.

“Do you want more sloth brains, Malfoy?” He calls out. “Or more glass in your eyes, for that matter?”  
  
Billy nearly grins when Malfoy marches over to them with Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind him like stray dogs.

“Where are your bandages, Draco?” Tommy snickers. “Heard you were saying you were _disfigured for life.”_  
  
“I-- Ugh.” Malfoy splutters and then decides on a sneer. “Whatever.” He fixes his gray eyes on Billy, and then glances languidly back to Tommy. “Mudbloods and blood traitors. Might as well be twins.”  
  
He shoulders past them-- or, rather, has Crabbe and Goyle clear the way for him-- with a sweep of his luxurious-looking cloak. Billy bets it was a Christmas gift. He glances back down to the three snowballs at Tommy’s feet. Wouldn’t it be nice if they just threw themselves? They hit Malfoy and his friends square in the backs of their thick heads, even causing Malfoy, the smallest of the lot, to fall face-first to the cold ground. Tommy bursts into loud, rambunctious laughter and high fives Billy. Teddy, meanwhile, just stares at him with his jaw dangling and his eyes wide with delight. Billy smugly crosses his arm over his chest, feeling suddenly warm.

“My-my father will hear about this!” Draco screams at them, all pink-faced, as Crabbe and Goyle help him up. “You just wait, mudblood, you just _wait!”_

“That was bloody amazing, Kaplan!” Tommy howls with laughter as they approach the greenhouses. “Honestly!”  
  
“He won’t tell his father on me, will he?” Billy asks.  
  
“Probably.” Teddy shrugs, holding the door open for them. “But really? I think most teachers would just rather look the other way. Oh, before I forget, do you two mind if I make an observation?”  
  
“Shoot.” Tommy shrugs.  
  
“You two _could_ be twins.”


	6. even though his parents were Death Eaters

Billy’s poor ice cream cone seems to be no match for the sweltering heat of a London summer. He finds himself struggling to eat it as fast as it melts beneath the bright sun, but to no avail. In fact, the only thing faster than the rate his ice cream melts at are his friends. Teddy and Kate had dragged him from their comfortable table at Florean Fortescue’s in order to gawk at some brooms, or something of that nature.

“I don’t get all the fuss over a silly broom,” He mutters bitterly after being forced to throw away his ice cream. “I mean, how many improvements can it have from the old Status--”  
  
_“Nimbus.”_ Teddy corrects.

“Whatever. It’s just a broom.”  
  
“He only says that because he sucks at flying.” Kate says in a bad stage whisper to Teddy. She throws a smile at Billy. “Oh, come on. You know it’s true.”  
  
Billy only rolls his eyes. He lets them shove through the crowd of people with their noses pressed against the window the broom shop, but stays behind himself to watch the carnage. Unfortunately, he’s dragged inside the shop by Kate, who insists she _has_ to get the Nimbus 2001. The place is so packed with people that he barely has room to move, but he decides he’ll  wait for Kate because he’s that good of a friend. Maybe she was right; maybe Billy just doesn’t care for brooms, Quidditch, or anything of the sorts because they’re the _only_ things he doesn’t excel at in school. Then again, he’d never been much of an athlete in the muggle world, so he isn’t too bothered. In fact, he’s more bothered by the fact that _someone_ had flung an excited elbow at his stomach--

“Kaplan? Kaplan!”

Tommy Shepherd-- Billy’s roommate and friend, he supposes-- grins at him. His white hair had gotten a bit longer and shaggier over the summer, and the hems of his faded jeans sit quite a bit above his skinny ankles. Behind him stands a pale witch with limp blond hair, bitterly pursed lips, and a ratty coin purse clutched tightly in her spindly hands. Billy supposes she’s Tommy’s mother.  
  
“Hello, Tommy.” He smiles, trying to ignore the unpleasant look Tommy’s mother wears. “How are you?”  


“Swell.” The other boy nods. “I was just looking at the brooms. The Nimbus 2001 is a beast.”  
  
Emphasis on _looking._ The Shepherds, from what Billy knows, are as pureblood as they come, but also incredibly poor. He’s never asked Tommy about his family-- considering it isn’t quite polite-- but he knows the other boy would much rather stay at Hogwarts during the holidays than go home. He’d written to Tommy quite a few times over the summer, but the replies he’d received had been vague and sporadic, which gave Billy the hunch that maybe his parents had something to do with it. Billy spies a fading bruise, mottled a pale green and purple, on his jaw.

“Billy-- Oh. You.”  
  
Kate and Teddy had returned from buying their brooms. Kate frowns when she sees Tommy. The few times she’d interacted with him the past year had ended so badly that Kate asked Billy, in front of Tommy, why he hung out with-- quote-- an “arrogant, immature, annoying bloke”. Billy couldn’t really think of a good reason-- partially because she was _right--_ but Tommy didn’t exactly need anyone to defend him; he’d teased Kate about being a-- _quote--_ “prissy, snobby, bossy princess”, which led to Kate switching his quills with prank quills. Joke was on her, though, since Tommy didn’t exactly take notes in class, but it was still enough to retaliate to the point where their spat became a prank war.

Billy hadn’t known peace since.

“Me.” Tommy smirks at her. “And how was your summer, Princess Katherine?”  
  
Kate wrinkles her nose at him. She flips her long, dark hair and throws a final glance at him as she drags Teddy out the door, and beckons for Billy to follow. He sighs.

“I suppose I’ll see you at Hogwarts?” He quirks his lip up at Tommy.

Tommy nods. “Yeah, Kaplan.”  
  
That was cue enough for his mother to grip his wrist tightly and drag him out of the broom shop with more strength than Billy had originally given her credit for. He overhears her threateningly telling her son something about “better friends” and “mudbloods”. He exits with balled fists.

“Let’s go back to Fortescue’s.” Teddy suggests after wandering through Diagon Alley for another half hour. “Before my mother decides to tell Billy’s some embarrassing baby stories.”  
  
Billy laughs. “Trust me, my mom’s already beaten her. And if I’m correct, she’s probably already invited yours to our holiday house in Spain.” He bites at his lip. “Hey, guys? I think Tommy told his mom I’m muggleborn. I heard her getting mad at him for being friends with me.”  
  
Kate huffs, but looks at him softly. “Well, Billy, his parents were Death Eaters.”  
  
“Death _what?”_ __  
  
“Dark wizards. Followers of You-Know-Who.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
He mulls that over as they make their way back to the ice cream shop. During the past school year, he’d gotten used to-- and perhaps, hopefully, excitingly-- immune to the bullying his blood status ensued. Mudblood is far from a nice word, but he’s heard it so often from Draco Malfoy and his friends that he doesn’t care much for it nowadays. Tommy, despite being as pureblood as Malfoy, had never brought up the subject.

“And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but,” Kate continues with a sigh. “That doesn’t mean Shepherd is like that. I can see the worry in your eyes, Billy. He’s not a bad person.”  
  
“Even though his parents were deplorable people.” Teddy adds, albeit a bit strongly. “Maybe your influence on him will keep him from turning out like that.”

 

* * *

 

When classes resume, so does the Quidditch season, and as does the _craze_ of the Quidditch season. Personally, Billy could care less for the sport itself, but he has to admit being a spectator is _fun;_ the crowd is an energizing entity that swallows you whole when your team wins or loses. Though he concedes that Gryffindor has the most _dedicated_ fans, Slytherin is pretty close behind.

Of course, it doesn't help that many of his friends are looking to try out for their House teams. He supposes they're all pretty good, that they're all going to make the cut, but Teddy seems too nervous the morning of try outs.

“Teddy, you haven’t eaten anything.” Billy notes as he walks past the Hufflepuff table. “There's nothing on your plate.”

“I’ll be fine.” The other boy shrugs and gets up. He looks a little pale. “Let’s go to class.”

“You okay?” Billy asks. They walk silently towards the charms course they have together.

Teddy nods. “Yeah, yeah. Can I, um, ask you a favor?”

“Yeah.” He blinks. “Of course.”

“Can you watch me at tryouts today?”

Billy is too happy to oblige. He wishes Tommy, who’d been practically _vibrating_ with excitement, good luck at his tryout, as Slytherin went before Hufflepuff, and meets Teddy on the practice pitch later that evening. He smiles at him.

“You’ll do great.” He assures him. “I promise.”

“Thanks.”

The other boy looks less nervous than he did this morning, but Billy’s still a bit worried he might puke all over the pitch. He reaches forward and places a hand on his shoulder and gives him as hard a squeeze he can muster.

“Tee.” He starts. “I’ve seen you play. If anyone deserves to make the team, it’s you. You have nothing to be nervous about.”

“But Billy--”

“You’ve even got that new broom. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not the broom that makes the player, it’s the--”

“Player that makes the broom. Yeah, yeah.” Billy smiles at him again. “Makes it all the better. Now go out there and show them all what you can do.”

Teddy breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. When they flutter open, revealing bright blue, they’re significantly calmer.

“You know,” He grins down at Billy. “I’m usually the one giving this talk. You always freak out about class.”

Billy laughs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Um, Billy?”

“Hmm?”

“You can let go of me now.”

Oh, right. Billy releases him as if Teddy’s shoulder were a fire he’d accidentally placed his hand in. Teddy grins back at him as he walks out on the pitch. He kicks off his ground as Billy takes a seat in the stands.

 

* * *

 

 

“I MADE THE TEAM, BILLY, I MADE THE TEAM!”

Billy wakes to Tommy practically tearing through the curtains on his bed. He groans and rolls over, away from the light, but the other boy jumps on his mattress. Billy sincerely hopes, for the sake of their roommates, that they're the only ones left in the dorm on this would-be beautiful Saturday morning.

“How long have you been up?” Billy mutters, keeping his eyes shut.

“Since six.”

“What time is it now?”

“Noon.”

Billy sits up and rubs his eyes. Tommy’s practically leaning over him with a big grin on his face. He thinks it may be the first time he’s seen the other boy genuinely happy. No, scratch that, happy doesn't cover it; Tommy is over the moon with sheer elation. He’d even called him “Billy”, not “Kaplan”.

“I made the team.” The other boy repeats, sitting opposite Billy on the bed. “I’m the Seeker. I made the team!”

Billy can't help but smile. “Brilliant, Tommy.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on Malfoy’s face.” Tommy pumps his fist in the air. “You know he tried out? For Seeker, too. Took the bloke a whole twenty five minutes out of thirty to find the Snitch. Know how long it took me? You wanna know?”

Billy nods.

“ _Twelve_ _.”_

“Blimey.” Billy grins. “That’s amazing.”

“I said I’d be Slytherin keeper one day.” Tommy shrugs and slides off the bed. “And now we’re going to win the House Quidditch Cup. You’ll come to the first match, right? Slytherin versus Gryffindor, the Hogwarts classic.”

“I’m not going for you,” Billy teases as he gets up and combs his hair. “I’ll attend for how good a match it's going to be.”

“Pfft.” Tommy stands next to him in the small mirror hanging next to the bed, preening at his own unruly locks. “You don’t even know the first thing about Quidditch.”

Billy glances up at their reflection. Last winter, Teddy had commented how they could be twins. He hadn't given much thought to it till now while staring at his own face reflected twice in the glass and in the boy standing next to him. Just dye Tommy’s hair black, makes his eyes dark, and they'd be identical. He remembers reading somewhere how everyone has at least seven other people that look just like them. It’s fitting he’d find one of his clones at a magical wizarding school, of all places. He wonders if Tommy thinks the same.


	7. just a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, the Chamber of Secrets has been opened after the first Quidditch match of the season

Billy wakes to the sound of childlike laughter. Blearily, he sits up in bed, expecting the relative darkness offered by the heavy curtains of a four-post. Bright sunlight, however, stings his eyes the moment he opens them; it filters through the open window in front of his bedroom at home, not Hogwarts, and casts a bright, sunny, painful-to-look-at glow over the place; the sunlight reflects harshly off the glossy posters lining his walls. His alarm clock beeps on his nightstand, but the noise seems far-off and distorted. When he slams his hand down on the button to silence it, it only keeps going.

His house is empty. He assumes it must be a weekday, since his alarm clock went off and his parents are most likely at work. That all means his brothers must be in school. He checks their bedrooms-- empty, no surprise-- and then trudges downstairs. The carpet feels soft on his bare feet, and the tile in the kitchen too cool. He peers in the fridge-- empty, a surprise-- and then steps back and looks around. His house looks just as it did the morning they all left for King’s Cross; everything is tidy and spotless, just as his mother likes it. Still, something feels off. He’d suspected it since he woke up at home, not in the castle, and when his alarm clock refused to turn off.

Children’s laughter, the sound that roused him in the first place, wafts in from the open kitchen window-- the one mother never leaves open. Billy makes his way outside through the back door, and makes a grab for his wand only to realize he doesn’t have it. In fact, he didn’t even notice it on his nightstand where it had sat dormant all summer. He bites his lip and continues past the veranda and into the backyard. Laughter chirps in a big oak tree that the yard doesn’t even have room for.

“I told you he’d come!” A child’s voice calls out.

“Michael? David?” He calls out, recognizing his brothers’ voices. “Get down from there!”

More laughter. A cold breeze-- the kind that can’t live in a summer day as this one-- rustles the uncharacteristic long grass and the green leaves on the oak tree. Billy spies his youngest brother sitting on a thin, low-hanging branch. He swings his legs in a rhythm that worries Billy.

“Mikey,” He calls out again. “Come down. You’re going to get hurt.”

  
The grass rustles again, but there’s no breeze this time. His blood ices when the tell-tale slither of a snake dragging its body on the ground sounds past him. The grass on his right parts, revealing the body of a massive emerald-colored snake bigger than any he could imagine. It takes all of Billy’s self-control not to scream, but the monster just slides past him and pays him no mind. Rather, it makes its way to the trunk of the tree. There’s a sinking feeling in Billy’s gut as it winds itself around the thick trunk. The light wood turns a pale purple as the beast coils itself tighter around the trunk; it’s as if the tree were a mouse or some other creature that falls prey to snakes. Billy watches, frozen in horror, as the leaves fall off the tree, brown and gray, and the trunk teeters menacingly. Both his brothers sit on the same branch. Neither of them seem to notice the giant snake waiting to fell the tree in order to squeeze the life out of them till their eyes bulge and they turn purple. The snakes loosens its grip on the trunk and slowly ascends it. If it lunges, David’s foot would be in perfect trajectory of its mouth…

“ _NO!!”_

Billy screams, rushing forward, as it does just that. He doesn’t have a wand, can’t do any sort of magic against it, and would probably suffer the same fate his brother won’t have to if he approaches it, but, what are the other options? He’s prepared to be greeted by sharp fangs dripping venom, but… That just doesn’t happen. The snake lifts its head to look at him, slowly blinking big yellow eyes. Then, it does the strangest thing: it dips its head towards him, with a soft hiss, and uncoils itself from the tree trunk.

_As you wish._

A voice hisses in the back of his mind. The snake slithers towards him, creating a circle around him briefly, before sinking into the grass. Billy does the same.

 

* * *

 

“Billy, helloooo? Earth to William!”

  
Billy jumps when Kate tickles his nose with her quill. They’re studying for a transfiguration exam he doesn’t think he’s ready for in one of the courtyards. Kate had been reading over her notes on transfiguring  mouse into a teacup. Billy had tried to pay attention-- he really had. But he couldn’t stop glancing up at the tree canopy they’re nestled beneath; he couldn’t stop thinking about last night’s dream which had left him shivering and breathing heavily. He straightens his spine and clears his throat.

“Sorry.” He offers sheepishly. A leaf gently floats down in front of him. He nearly winces when it lands in his hair.

“You’re awfully jumpy today.” Kate picks the leaf out of his fringe. “Everything alright?”

He nods. “Yeah. Just a rough night. Just a dream.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. Dreams about giant snakes aren’t good things in the muggle world, so, he expects it to have ten times more interpretations-- most of which probably involved death and evil-- here. He turns back to his own notes and tries to admonish the fact that he’s never had dreams so vivid before. This isn’t the first time weird things have happened to him at Hogwarts, but it certainly feels like he’s become a magnet for them. He surely hasn’t forgotten about the Sorting Hat’s revelations from the previous year, and the worst part is he still has no clue what they mean. And with comments about dark wizardry such as the one Kate had made in Diagon Alley about Tommy’s parents, they make him feel even more uneasy. After all, it’s a bit scary to think that there are several families of dark wizards out there.

And that maybe one could be his own, according to the Hat.

“Kate.” He says, getting the girl’s attention. “Kate, remember what you said about Tommy’s parents when we were in Diagon Alley? About them being Death Eaters?”

Kate looks up from her studying. “Yeah, why?”

“There are… More of them, right?”

Kate frowns. “Well, a lot of them have students here. In Slytherin, no offense, because the House has a knack for churning those out. It’s because they’re purists-- after all, Salazar Slytherin himself only wanted to teach the purebloods.”

“Right.” Billy nods. “And that’s why he left the school and went to the continent. I read about that.”

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Kate continues. “Because dark wizards tend to be supremacists, a lot of pureblood families got involved with You-Know-Who. Not all of them-- I haven’t a Death Eater in my family-- mind you. But it’s still common knowledge in the wizarding world. Some of them are more notorious than others. Like the Lestranges, or the Notts, the Blacks, or the Lehnsherrs.”

“I read that name on a plaque in the trophy room when I had detention last year.” Billy frowns. “Lehnsherr.”

“Mental, those.” Kate nods slowly with wide eyes. “One of the daughters is awaiting trial in Azkaban for killing her own children. They say she sacrificed them to the Dark Lord.”

Billy shudders, and Kate goes on. “Oh, and the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy, Draco’s father, got off the hook for claiming he was working under the Imperius Curse.”

“Draco threatened to tell his father on me once.” Billy’s eyes go wide.

“Why are you so curious about all of this?” Kate narrows her eyes at him. “Has Shepherd been acting weird lately, or--”

“No, no.” Billy gestures the suggestion away. “I was just wondering. Oh, speak of the devil. Here comes Malfoy.”

Draco Malfoy approaches them accompanied by the Slytherin Quidditch team. Judging by how Malfoy’s usually plastered hair looks a bit ruffled, they probably just got out of practice. Funny, Billy thinks, he’s wearing Quidditch robes. As far as he knows, Malfoy isn’t on the team. Kate stands and shoulders her bag. Billy follows suit.

“Hey, Bishop!” Malfoy calls out. Kate huffs and keeps walking. “Do you like my new broom? Don’t you wish your entire team had them?”

Billy steals a backwards glance. In his hand, Malfoy holds a sleek, black broomstick. The handle glitters as if made of gold. Every one of his teammates holds an identical one. Kate stops in her tracks and turns around. She scowls.

“Cute.” She scoffs. “You all match. Is there anything else you want to show me, Draco? Other than how you bought your way onto the team?”

“Already heard it.” Draco shrugs it off smugly. “I’m surprised you haven't done the same. Would've been the only way I’d let you on. We all knows girls can't play Quidditch.”

His mates snicker and ooh as if it had actually been a good joke; it’s probable Malfoy paid the team to laugh as well. Kate grabs at her wand, but Billy shakes his head. It's ironic, because he'd be doing the same thing had their positions been reversed. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Really, Malfoy?”

“We all know weasels can’t catch Snitches.” Kate mutters.

“Better a weasel than a blood traitor.” The boy hums. Billy’s scowl deepens as he comes to the realization that Malfoy bought his way to the Seeker’s position Tommy had earned. “Speaking of which, isn't this company a bit above your station, Katie?”

“I keep good enough company, thanks.” Kate counters harshly, sizing up the gargantuan Slytherin beater standing behind him. “Better my friends than your future Azkaban inmates. Is your daddy gonna pass on the mask, Drakie?”

“Oh, come off it, Bishop. Your father owns the most biased newspaper in Great Britain. You lot don't have much to be proud of.”

“Biased how?” Kate’s eyes flash dangerously. Billy doesn't know whether to stop or encourage her. “Did it lie about how your lot supported a dark wizard? No? Didn't think so.”

Draco just scowls in response. He turns his nose up at them, looking very much like the weasel Kate said he was, and follows his older teammates into the castle.

“You’ll see, Bishop!” He waves towards them. “You’ll all see soon enough!”

The weekend arrives in a flurry of green and red, silver and gold. The opening match of this year’s Quidditch season had drawn even the student that cared the absolute least about sport (see: Billy) to the pitch, and managed every teacher out of their classroom. Billy swears he even sees Filch, with his cat in tow, in the faculty seats.

“This might be the first time in my life I’ll cheer for Gryffindor.” Tommy spits as they make their way to the top of the spectator stands. “Probably not the last. And that’s the worst part.”

Billy concurs. He still can't fathom how Tommy was sidelined by the Slytherin team captain all because Draco Malfoy had bought his way into the Seeker spot. They’d told Tommy they didn't need him today, just for pleasantries, but that clearly meant they wouldn't need him ever. He doesn't wish injury upon others, but he wouldn't mind if Draco were to fall off his broom from a hundred feet up and break something. Not something important like a spine or neck, of course, but… A wrist. An arm. A entire hand. Yeah.

“This is rubbish.” Tommy mutters darkly as he sits. His Seeker’s goggles are still tangled in his white hair. He lays his chin on his folded arms and leans against the wooden barrier. “Utter rubbish.”

Billy doesn't really know what to say. Tommy talks so much that he'd already said all there was on the matter for the both of them. All he can offer is sympathy for the situation, but, just as last year, he can’t empathize even if he wishes he could. The match kicks off when Madame Hooch blows her whistle and both teams take to the skies. Billy peers through his binoculars to see Malfoy looking ever-so smug on his Nimbus 2001. Again, it wouldn't hurt if he got slightly injured…

Despite claiming he’d support Gryffindor, Billy can see Tommy suffer when they scores ten points. Malfoy’s broom spins as a bludger flies past him. What were the odds of that happening again? Judging by how a bludger had taken a liking to Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker, and how Malfoy chased after Potter, it was likely. Billy hopes so. To reiterate, not a serious injury, but just enough to keep him off his broom for the rest of the season. The Slytherins go wild when they equalize, and boo when Gryffindor scores again. In the muggle world, he’d never been much of an athlete, but he’d occasionally watch football if it were on. Once, he even went to see the English national team play a friendly. He didn’t think any fans can top the Hooligans, but that was back before experiencing Quidditch in the flesh.

Billy jumps and nearly drops his binoculars when Potter’s bludger crashes into the Slytherin stands. Everyone shouts, pointing at the black ball, as it does the same to the other House stands till it flies out of sight again. In the center of the pitch, Malfoy hovers there, looking frustrated. He tries gaining elevation, but is cut off brutally by a certain Gryffindor chaser with a black ponytail. Billy smirks.

“Move, Malfoy!” Tommy shouts, tugging at his hair. “You can’t just wait for the Snitch to show up under your nose! Move, you piece of snot!”

He turns to look at Billy, covering his eyes with his hands. “Oh, Merlin, he’s so bad. We’re doomed.”

As if he’d somehow heard Tommy, Malfoy takes a hint and dives down after Potter. Billy finds himself clapping and cheering as he gains speed on the Gryffindor Seeker, and plunges into the groundwork of the stands, but then remembers that a Slytherin victory depends on Malfoy and bites his lip. Tommy’s still yelling at the top of his lungs, as is the rest of their House.

_IwanthimtogethurtIwanthimtogethurtIwanthimtogethurt_

It’s as if a primal voice took over his brain. Does he want Tommy to play in the position he’d earned? Yes. Does he want Draco Malfoy to get hurt? Just a little, but not really. He closes his eyes. Suddenly, he feels dizzy and weak. It must be the height of the stands. The Slytherin crowd jeers when their Seeker ends up sprawled on the grass. Billy hadn’t seen the play, but Malfoy had to have tumbled out of the stands and flipped over his broom. He grabs the binoculars and notes that Malfoy seems to have trouble getting up. He looks as if he's in pain. A sinking feeling pools in Billy’s stomach, though he’s unsure why.

“Dammit!” Tommy slams his fist on the barrier when it’s announced that Gryffindor wins. “I told you we were doomed!”

He continues complaining bitterly, but the ringing in Billy’s ears builds to where he can only hear his frantic heartbeat and the rush of his blood. Weakly, he reaches for the barrier to steady himself. Black spots flicker in his vision.

“Woah, you okay, Kaplan?” Tommy sounds as if he's talking underwater. Billy nods, but passes out anyways.


	8. and that is it

Madame Pomfrey releases him from the infirmary in the evening after concluding there’s nothing wrong with him. He’d woken up shortly after blacking out in one of the infirmary beds with Tommy and Kate, still in her Quidditch robes, peering over him concernedly. In the cot next to him, he’d heard Malfoy agonizing loudly about how he fell off his broom. Billy’s guilt subsided once Madame Pomfrey told him to go and to stop being dramatic. His stomach rumbles. Dinner must be nearly over, but he can still try to get a plate of something to take to his dorm. He heads towards the Great Hall, but the sound of several footsteps coming towards him makes him pause; a group of students rush past him and down the hall in front of him. Another group follows till it becomes not a stream but a flood. Billy decides it's probably best to follow them, since crowds don't form for just anything.

The entirety of Hogwarts is gathered in a semi-circle around one of the walls. Billy slinks past a group of tall fifth years blocking his way, and shoves himself as politely as possible to the front of the crowd to see what sends whispers and a cold vibe through it. His own jaw drops when he looks up at the wall.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE_

The letters drip red. Billy’s stomach lurches as he comes to the realization that it isn't ketchup. It only worsens when he notices a shaggy tabby cat, Filch’s cat, hangs suspended and unmoving right in front of the chilling message.

_At last…_

He jumps at the cold hissing that sounds as if it came from right next to him. The Ravenclaw girl to his right fixes him with a grudging glare when he looks at her quizzingly. The teachers arrive on the scene in a flurry of cloaks and outdrawn wands, but Billy tunes Dumbledore out in an effort to be alert to that hissing. His feet follow the rest of the Slytherin as the prefects herd them back to the dorms, where they are to stay till further notice, but his mind wanders back to the hall-- more specifically, to the wall where the message had been written. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened, enemies of the heir beware. And then, “at last”. A chill goes through him involuntarily.

“What does it mean?” A girl in front of him asks her friends.

“No clue.”

“Did you see the cat?”

“Potter did it, he was the one there--”

“I hope the cat is okay…”

“I’m telling you, Potter did it!”

“Who do you think is next?”

“The mudbloods, of course.” Draco Malfoy loudly answers the question that wasn’t aimed at him. “My father told me about the Chamber. He said last time it was opened, one of them died. It’s only a matter of time.”

Billy’s eyes go wide. Someone had died at Hogwarts? McGonagall had definitely left that small detail out when explaining the school to his mother. The prefect lukewarmly tells Draco to hush and placidly instructs everyone to stay in their dorms or common room. Billy climbs the stairs to his room, and runs his hands along the cool stone walls. The voice sounded like it came from inside the ones on the main floors. He sits on his bed mindlessly, hardly noticing when Tommy peers at him from behind the curtains on his.

“That was wild.” He breathes, wide green eyes reflecting the green light that illuminates the room. “I mean, it was written in blood.”

Billy shifts uncomfortably. “Do you know what Chamber of Secrets is?”

Tommy shakes his head. “Dunno. But either this is someone’s idea of a really complex prank, or Hogwarts is about to get interesting.”

Billy raises a brow. “Interesting?”

“Everyone loves a good mystery.” Tommy shrugs. “And, I mean, it sounds cool. All mysterious. The Chamber,” He pauses dramatically. “Of Secrets.”

Billy thinks back to what Malfoy said in the hall. “Someone died last time it was open. A muggleborn.”

Tommy blinks and his grin falls. “Who told you that?”

“Malfoy.”

“Are you really gonna believe something Malfoy says?” He scoffs. “He makes things up so people will listen to him. You know what’s freakier? As I was walking I heard--” He stops himself, and shakes his head. “Nothing, never mind.”

“No, what?” Billy thinks to the weird hissing he heard. Could it be Tommy heard the same thing?

“Nothing. Good night.”

“Good night.” Billy echoes meekly as Tommy disappears behind his curtains.

He spends the night awake, hearing hissing every time he tries to close his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The next morning in transfiguration Billy can hardly stay awake. He blinks blearily, pointing his wand at the teacup in front of him. It’s supposed to be a mouse, but the most he can manage out of it is a squeak. Next to him, Tommy’s transfigured his white teacup into an equally white mouse with big ears and red eyes. He lets it climb up on his shoulder. Billy doubts Professor McGonagall would let him keep him, but at least he’s entertained. He still can't really wrap his head around what happened last night-- or Tommy’s reaction-- and he isn't the only one; half way through the lesson, the one Gryffindor girl that hangs out with Potter raises her hand and asks McGonagall about the Chamber of Secrets. The stately witch looks at a loss for a moment.

“The Chamber of Secrets is a myth, Miss Granger.” She says evenly. Billy picks his head up from his desk. “Nothing but a legend.”

“But Professor,” Granger presses. “Legends usually have a basis in fact, right?”

The class looks up from their teacups and stares pertinently at McGonagall. Tommy had set his mouse down and looked atent.

“Very well.” She finally decides. “As you all know, Hogwarts had four founders. They were--”

“Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin.” The girls nods.

“Correct.” McGonagall narrows her eyes at her for interrupting. “When the four founders built this school, they picked which students they wanted to teach. This was a precursor to the four Houses each of you finds yourself in today. The founders picked students based on the qualities they valued most. Gryffindor tended to favor bold and noble students, Ravenclaw the sharpest, Slytherin--”

“Those of purest blood.”

McGonagall peers over at her from her glasses. “... And Hufflepuff took the rest. For many years, the founders worked together in harmony. But then disagreements arose between them, particularly between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and a rift was formed. Miss Granger, do you know why?”

“Because…” She starts with hesitance. “Slytherin didn’t want to teach the muggleborns. He didn't think they had a right to learn magic.”

The entire class shifts uncomfortably in their seats. That is, except for Draco Malfoy and his band of stooges; Malfoy poorly tries to suppress his grin.

“Yes.” McGonagall nods tightly. Billy notices the way her sharp gaze falls on Malfoy, whose mouth straightens back into a placid expression. “Slytherin believed magic should be kept to pureblood families. He thought muggles both untrustworthy, due to living in an era where wizards were heavily persecuted, and unworthy. He ended up leaving Hogwarts due to the fallout with the other founders, namely Gryffindor.”

“So how does the Chamber of Secrets tie in with all of this?” Someone calls from the back of class.

“Over the years, Slytherin’s departure from Hogwarts was turned into legend. According to it, he sealed the Chamber so that none would be able to open it till his true heir arrived at the school. In it is supposedly a beast.. Then, the heir of Slytherin would open it when the time came.”

“And then…?” Someone else asks. “What then?”

She purses her lips so tightly they turn white. “And that is it. Enough on the matter. Now, Mr. Weasley, I suggest you replace--”

“Professor, last time the Chamber was open someone died.”

Billy hardly ever speaks in class. He mostly keeps to himself, and doesn’t share his usually correct answers unless called on. But the uneasiness caused him to lift his hand, and blurt out his question, which came out more like a statement, before McGonagall could even call on him. She turns to look at him, green eyes nearly cutting into him.

“Mister Kaplan,” She says, her voice perfectly level. “Where did you come up with that?”

Billy blinks, not expecting a question. He just shakes his head and shrugs.

“A myth.” She repeats, breaking his gaze and walking back to her chalkboard. “That is all the Chamber of Secrets is. I assure you all, no harm will come to you while at Hogwarts. Now back to your assignments.”

Slowly, the class shakes off its uneasiness, and returns to transfiguring teacups. Billy nearly jumps when Malfoy grabs the back of his chair, leans in, and whispers, “ _You’re next, mudblood.”_

 

* * *

 

“Who do you think it is?”

Billy walks back from dinner with Teddy and Eli the Ravenclaw. Eli, a tall boy with hard eyes, is pretty cool by Billy’s book; he’s smart, quiet, and exudes a subtle confidence that Billy wishes he had. He’s more Kate’s friend than he is theirs, but since Kate had practice, Teddy decided invited him to the library to study. After all, since last night, no student is to wander the castle alone.

“Who do you think is what?” Eli raises a brow at him.

“The heir of Slytherin.” Billy lowers his voice. “The one that caused… Well, what happened last night.”

“I still don’t think the Chamber is a real thing.” Eli, ever the skeptic, counters bluntly. “It just sounds like something to scare kids and to give the bigot Slytherins even more of an ego.”

Easy for him to say. He is, after all, a pureblood with nothing to fear. Maybe it’s because Billy scares easy and admits to being a bit gullible, or maybe it’s because a student was found petrified in the corridors last night. A first year, _muggleborn_ student. The word spread around the school before midnight, and had caused a general feeling of paranoia and fear in the student body. So much for McGonagall saying no harm would come to them while at Hogwarts

“Eli, they found a kid petrified.” Teddy reminds him. “How in Merlin do you explain that?”

“A Petrification charm?”

Teddy and Billy shake their heads. Billy adds, albeit timidly, “I think this is real.”

“A giant monster is roaming the corridors.” Eli deadpans, borrowing from the ever-growing rumors surrounding the Chamber. “How come I haven’t seen it?”

“Maybe it’s invisible?” Teddy offers meekly.

“Doubt it.” Eli mutters. “These wizard things never are.”

Though a pureblood by definition, with two magical parents, Eli had been raised in the muggle world by his muggle grandmother and wizard grandfather. From the vague pieces of backstory he’d leaked, Billy concurs that despite his blood status, the other boy is as in the dark about these things as he is. He’s safe, however, from whatever roams Hogwart’s halls. If the thing resided in Slytherin’s chambers, he concludes, then it must be out to do the bidding of its bigoted, purist master.

And then there's the question of who unleashed the beast and opened the Chamber.

“My bet is on Malfoy.” Teddy shrugs. Billy blinks, not even expecting him to take his side of the debate. “I mean, have you heard him? He told Billy he's next.”

“That's very much suspect.” Eli agrees.

“And his father’s a Death Eater, right?” Billy proposes, looking at Teddy for validation. Teddy nods. “He must’ve shown him how to open the Chamber. Wow. That’s kind of a messed up family heirloom.”

“Yeah.” Eli says as the climb up the stairs to the fourth floor. “If we’re talking about suspicious characters in Slytherin, he's on the top of the list. I’d put Shepherd up there, too.”

Billy blinks. “Tommy?”

The other boy nods. “There's something about him I find difficult to trust. I know he’s your friend, but his parents were Death Eaters, too. And it makes sense, wouldn’t it? That the only heirloom his family has left is that Chamber and whatever lives inside.”

“Like the Gaunts,” Teddy adds wearily.

“The who?”

“Last recorded descendants of Slytherin.” He explains. Thank God for Teddy. “Mad. Poor, but they used to be really rich and powerful. The bloodline died years ago. I guess Salazar’s still got some representation left, though. Otherwise the Chamber wouldn't have been open.”

“You reckon Tommy’s descended from Slytherin?” Billy errs on the side of caution as he remembers Tommy’s reaction to the Chamber being opened.

“Anything is possible at this point.” Eli shrugs. “After all, I’m debating the possibility that a bloodthirsty monster lives beneath us.”

“Well, they _did_ say a Cerberus lived here--” Teddy starts, but Billy cuts him off.

“Tommy wouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “He’s-- he’s never once treated me differently because I’m muggle-- Do you hear that?”

He holds up a hand to silence his friends, and focuses on the soft hissing creeping into the edge of his hearing. It’s subtle, hardly a whisper, if it can be called that, but--

_I smell filthy blood..._

He lets out a yelp. Teddy and Eli both look at him weird, with Teddy even going to so far to touch his arm. He shrinks away from his reach. The hissing gets louder.

_Kill! Kill! Kill!_

Then, it subsides as if it's getting further away. Billy’s heart raced wildly in his ribcage. Had no one else heard that?

“Billy?” Teddy’s eyes grow wide with concern. “What’s wrong--”

“I have to go.” His tongue feels as if it doesn't belong in his mouth. “I-I’ll see you in the library, alright? Just go.”

He hurries down the opposite hall, away from them, and keeps running trying to follow the voice as it grows fainter. Finally he stops, out of breath, in an empty, silent corridor he doesn't recognize. He’d knocked over a bucket of water belonging to Filch in his trajectory, spilling dirty water all of his pants and the floor. The corridor lights reflect dimly in the puddle in front of him.

_Kill…_

The voice grows closer, closer, closer, as if it's above him, as if it's next to him--

_Kill the mudbloods…_

A pair of slitted yellow eyes join the lights in the puddle. Billy feels himself fall, backwards probably, and suddenly it's as if he's lost all control over his body; he can't get up, can’t move his head, can’t tear his eyes away from the puddle. The yellow eyes are gone and replaced by white hair and ratty Seeker’s goggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the book, it's actually Professor Binns that gives the talk on the Chamber, but in the movie it's McGonagall


	9. something out of a muggle comic book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the compulsory Backstory Chapter™

Months pass, he thinks. Being petrified _sucks._ He likens it to a lucid dream; he’s able to see and hear, but he just _can’t move at all._ Not even his eyes. He wonders what they’re fixed to, hoping he doesn't look too creepy in that infirmary bed.

He gets an idea of the date when Kate, Teddy, and the rest of their group show up to bid him farewell for the holidays. Tommy isn't with them. To be honest, he hasn't seen much of him since the first visit after he brought him into the infirmary, stiff as a stone. It had been _bad;_ Madame Pomfrey accused him of having something to do with it, and all Tommy could do was keep repeating that he _found_ him, in a corridor, there was water, he looked _dead…_ And then the faculty was called in, with Professor Snape at the head, and it got worse. It was thanks to Dumbledore that Tommy got off the hook that night.

With the holidays being just around the corner and him still confined to a medical cot till further notice, he can't help but think of home. Oh, his poor mother. He wonders how she told his little brothers that he’s not coming home for the break; he supposes “your big brother was paralyzed by a suspected bloodthirsty monster lurking in his school” puts a bit of a damper on the festivities. Maybe his mom is rethinking sending him to this magic boarding school where the staff _definitely_ doesn't give safety disclaimer.

As night falls on the castle after most of the students have left, Billy stares up at the ceiling of the infirmary. It's not enchanted like the one in the Great Hall, so it's not a good way to pass time. If he could sigh, he would. He settles for staring at one spot on the ceiling till his vision turns black from the concentration. It’s the only alternative he has to sleeping.

_IwantoseemyfamilyIwanttoseemyfamilyIwanttoseemyfamily!_

 

* * *

 

His family huddles  around the silver menorah sitting on the dining room table. Three of the nine candles are lit, not including the one in the center, signaling the fourth night of Hanukkah. Ever since he’d been deemed responsible enough to not burn the house down, lighting the candles and saying the prayers had been his job. His mom hands the candle to the eldest of his younger brothers, Michael. He can’t help noticing how aggrieved she looks doing this. Michael solemnly lights the next candle, stumbles over some of the words in the prayer, but ultimately, Billy couldn’t have done better himself.

“Mom,” Billy’s other brother, David, says when everything is finished. “When is Billy coming back?”  
  
Their mother looks down at him and sighs. She places a hand on his shoulder. “Soon, we hope.”

* * *

 

If he could fall out of the infirmary bed, he most definitely would. Had… Had he just teleported his conscience to his living room? All because he wanted to see his family? The explanation he thinks of seems like something out of the muggle comic book his mom sends him from home, but it’s the only thing he can think of. He’d just… Wished to see his family. Kept repeating it childishly and impulsively in his head. And… It worked. His vision flickers with black spots, and even though he doesn’t think he can feel weak when petrified, he does. It’s how he felt at the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the one where Malfoy fell off his broom after he’d wished it.

 _IwantotseemyfriendsIwanttoseemyfriends!_  
  
Nothing. Maybe it only works once? He concentrates harder.

 _IwanttoseemyfriendsIwanttoseemyfriendsIwanttoseemyfriends!!_ _  
_

* * *

 

Teddy’s house is exactly as he’d imagined it: tidy, cozy, and magical. A levitating feather duster works merrily at dusting some picture frames sitting at one of the coffee tables, and a pair of floating knitting needles work with minds of their own to make a soft-looking yellow scarf. A fire crackles happily in the fireplace, and the scent of hot chocolate wafts from the kitchen. Teddy sits curled up at one of the plump couches with a thick book in his hands. He flips through the pages slowly. He looks to be reminiscing.

A woman Billy recognizes as Teddy’s mother emerges from what he supposes is the kitchen with two mugs of hot chocolate in her hands. She’s a small, portly witch with short blonde hair and blue eyes that look much like Teddy’s. Every time Billy has encountered her, she’s smiling; she’s just as warm as the vibe her house gives off. She sets one of the mugs down in front of Teddy, and settles across from him in a rocking chair that seems to rock itself.

“What are you looking at?” She asks him as she withdraws her wand from the pocket of her apron and stop the chair.

“The scrapbook.” Teddy answers, looking up at her. “Y’know… My mother’s.”  
  
“Ah.” She answers, leaving Billy very, _very_ confused. “I was wondering where it had gone.”  
  
They sit in silence except for the sound of Teddy flipping thick pages of his _mother’s_ scrapbook. He looks up again, this time with a grin on his face. “Hey, I was green as a baby!”  
  
His mom (?) laughs. “You were a green boy for a long time. Y’know, they say Metamorphmagi have a preferred look. I suppose yours was green and scaly. Your mother said she was the same until she went off to Hogwarts, since I guess the other children found green skin strange.”  
  
“And now I look like you.” Teddy adds. She nods, a small, but wistful smile on her lips.

“Yes. You do. Looked like your father as a baby other than the green. You can see it in the pictures, too. Great Auror, that man was. Your mother, too.”  
  
“That’s why what happened to them…” Teddy trails off. “Happened to them. Because they were so good at what they did. Right? And I can’t even make the House Quidditch team.”  
  
She doesn’t say anything else, but just offers Teddy a look full of soft remorse. She gets up and sits next to him, and wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him into her. He lays her head against his shoulder, still looking down at the scrapbook.

“They’d be so proud of you, Teddy.” She whispers. “They really would.”

The warmth of Teddy’s home transforms into white walls, graceful arched windows, and a sprawling marble staircase. A massive, live Christmas tree sits at the foot of it; its tip nearly grazes the enchanted ceiling that gently deposits snow onto its boughs. Kate looks dwarfed at the base of the tree. She kneels over a large box of expensive-looking glass ornaments while her sister, a dark-haired Ravenclaw prefect whom Billy had met only once, descends the grand staircase with another box.

“Are those the silver ones?” Kate asks. Her sister nods and sets the box down next to her. Kate reaches into and pulls out a delicate silver bauble. Light dances off it into snowflake patterns.

“Where are the candles?” Kate looks up at her sister. “You know she likes those.”  
  
“Ugh, why do I have to get everything?” Her sister complains. “Why can’t we just have the house elves do all of it? They’re competent enough.”  
  
Kate’s eyes flash. “Because.” She starts. “Mother always does it herself. Besides, the house elves aren’t our slaves we can use to do stuff that we easily can, Susan.”  
  
Susan rolls her eyes. “Katie. That’s their _job._ Who’s cooked and served all your meals since you were little? Who cleans your room? Who makes sure the grounds look nice for guests? Who is currently attending to our mother because _you_ want to decorate a stupid tree?”  
  
Kate sets the ornament down and doesn’t say anything. Her sister kneels down next to her and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I know it’s hard.” Susan says much more softly. “But she’ll get better. Father’s trying everything he can. She’s leaving for St. Mungo’s tomorrow so the healers can--”  
  
_“What?”_ Kate exclaims. “For how long?”  
  
The other girl doesn’t meet her eyes. “Indefinitely.”  
  
“No.” Kate shakes her head. “She-- she’s never had to stay there. And for the holidays, on top of that! You know it won’t be the same without her, she _can’t_ be taken away to St. Mungo’s, Susan, she can’t!”  
  
Kate’s older sister sighs impatiently. “She _needs_ to be there, Kate. We can’t keep her here anymore.”  
  
“Father can bring the healers here! He’s done that before--”  
  
“They want to keep her monitored. And St. Mungo’s is a facility trained to deal with terminal patients. She’ll be okay there. They’ll keep her going for as long as they can.”  
  
Kate shrugs off the hand Susan placed on her shoulder. “Don’t talk about her like that.”  
  
“We need to be realistic, Kate. Our mother is very ill. The healers already said the most they can do is keep her alive for as long as they can, because there’s no cure for her condition. The most we can do now is ease her pain and keep her company. You _know_ they’ve tried everything they could.”  
  
“What,” Kate suddenly snaps. “So you’re just going to sit here and talk about our mother as if she’s already dead?”  
  
“That’s not what I’m doing--”  
  
“Just go.” She growls. “Go away. Let me do this by myself.”  
  
The older girl slowly gets up and leaves her sister be. Kate curls in on herself with her back to the tree once she’s alone; she hugs her knees tightly, still holding the silver ornament in one of her hands. Violently, she chucks it against the ground and buries her head in her arms.

The stately walls of Bishop manor melt into different scenes of which Billy only gets glimpses of; there’s Eli sitting at a small kitchen table with an old man, Cassie waiting at Heathrow for a flight presumably to New York, where her mother lives, and America in some… Jungle with the two older women she calls her moms. Finally, a solitary cottage sheltered by a pine grove settles into view. Well, it’s more of a shack than it is a cottage; the small structure leans too much to one side, and the walls look thin. A shingle falls off the roof and lands unceremoniously in the snow. A small garden fenced in by brown barbed wire sits cold and barren in the proximity of the place. There’s the sound of feet crushing on snow, and Tommy comes into view carrying a large armful of wood. He shoves his way through the door of the shack, allowing it to slam shut loudly behind him, and sets the stack of firewood down in front of the fire in the fireplace situated in a sparsely furnished living room with unpolished wooden floors. Unlike the one in Teddy’s home, this one looks sad and dying. Tommy tosses a piece of wood into it, but instead of stoking the flames, it only dwindles. He curses, and mutters something about how it’s damp.

“I told you,” The same witch Billy had encountered at Diagon Alley shoves past him with her wand outstretched. “You should just let me do it. No need to cut wood like some pathetic muggle.”  
  
She waves her wand and points it at the fire, which roars back to life. Tommy bites his lip and looks down.

“That’s what your magic is for, thick boy.” The woman scoffs. “Or are you suddenly a squib?”  
  
“I like cutting the wood.” Tommy adds softly. “I like going out in the forest. And we can’t use magic outside of school. Or do you want the Ministry here again?”  
  
His mother’s eyes flash angrily. She clutches her wand, and for a second Billy thinks Tommy’s in danger. “What did you say to me, boy?”  
  
Tommy shakes his head rapidly. “Nothing.”  
  
She nods tightly and sneers victoriously. “I thought so.” She chuckles haughtily, but it turns into a cough. “Those government mudbloods need to mind barging into people’s houses like they do. Can’t forget how nasty they were when they came in here and dragged your father away for his so-called _crimes._ In my opinion, those bloody Aurors had it coming. Filthy blood traitors, a scourge to the wizard name.” She turns her pale, piercing gaze back to her son. Tommy squirms. “Are you still friends with that mudblood boy?”  
  
He shakes his head again.

“Are you lying to me?”  
  
“No, ma’am.”  
  
“Good.” The witch decides. “I still can’t fathom how one of _those_ infiltrated Slytherin. Must be the work of that damned headmaster.”  
  
She takes a seat at one of the threadbare chairs next to the fireplace. Tommy stays on the floor. He looks as if he has something to say.

“Mother,” He starts timidly. “Something is happening at Hogwarts.”  
  
The woman waves her wand. A glass and a half-full bottle of deep red liquid floats towards her. The bottle pours itself into the glass with another wave of her wand. Tommy shudders when she takes a long drink. “What is it?”  
  
“They say the… The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. And there’s been attacks on students, on muggleb-- mudbloods.”  
  
Billy winces when he hears him use the word. Tommy’s mother raises a brow. “The Chamber of Secrets?”  
  
“Salazar Slytherin’s secret chamber.”  
  
“I know what it is.” She snaps, and pours another drink. “It’s been long enough since it was last opened.”  
  
“It was opened before?”  
  
“Of course.” She looks at him like he’s slow. “What useless fluff are they filling your head with in those classes? Half those teachers need to be fired. Last time someone opened that Chamber was decades ago, even before I went to Hogwarts. A mudblood died. Suppose they didn’t tell you that, either?”  
  
He nods. “I heard it.”  
  
“Well, you listened for once in your life.” She grins as she takes a sip of her drink. “Has anyone died yet?”  
  
“No. Just petrified.”  
  
“Matter of time, I say.”  
  
Tommy shakes his head. “Mother, they’re blaming _me_ for it.”  
  
That causes the woman’s eyes to go wide. She sets her glass down. “You? Why? Who?”  
  
“Some… Students.” He explains. “They-- they think I opened it because I took a fr-- student,” He quickly correct himself.  “To the infirmary after finding them petrified. And, um, that’s why I’m home. I didn’t want to stay at the castle with all that going around.”  
  
His mother narrows her eyes at him. “Just let them talk. They don’t know we’re not even descended from Slytherin. What they don’t know won’t hurt them--”  
  
“But people are getting hurt!”  
  
“Mudbloods.” She sniffs pettily.  
  
Tommy blinks rapidly. “Mother, th--”  
  
“Unless you have some sort of soft spot for them?” She prompts, voice suddenly softer, but all the while venomous. “Unless you lied to me about still associating with that boy?”

Tommy doesn’t even get a chance to defend himself before she points her wand at him and releases a crackling white beam from its tip. He flies back against the wall, hitting his head, and yelps in pain. To Billy’s horror, a welt that looks too much like that of a whip forms on his cheek.

“As _if_ you’d be Slytherin’s heir.” The woman sneers as she gets up. “I can’t believe I raised a blood traitor.”  
  
She leaves Tommy struggling to prop himself up against the wall. When he finally does, he rest his head back against it and closes his eyes; tears leak out from beneath his lashes, but he quickly reaches up with his hand to wipe at them harshly. He opens his eyes.

“You can come out now,” He whispers to no one in particular. “She’s not here.”  
  
Before Billy can question who he’d spoken to, a dappled brown snake slithers out from a crack in the wall. It settles comfortably against Tommy’s leg. He absently strokes its head with a finger. Its tongue slithers out languidly, and it slowly closes its black eyes and opens them again.

“She’s terrible, I know.” Tommy says. The animal seems to nod.

 _It’s ironic how a proud Slytherin is scared of snakes,_ it says.

  
Tommy snorts. “Right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what Billy does here falls under Legilimency, even though he doesn't know it yet. Though in the books and movies our brush with Legilimency is messing with the mind, it's a really vague type of magic and so I took a few liberties with it. Like, Billy's snooping through people's lives, but he's more omniscient? However, since he's still young, he has a really hard time controlling it and is pretty much completely sapped after using his abilities. These are all, of course, passed on from Wanda, who, for I think pretty reasonable reasons, would be an extremely powerful and talented witch in this AU. The thing Billy did at the Quidditch match is separate from this, though; that was mostly his accidental magic, but he does have a bit of control over it considering he's quite powerful even at this age. Also, yes, Teddy did look like actual Hulking, but even at Hogwarts I think people would be a little freaked by a green boy.


	10. the thaw

As winter thaws, so does he. The mandrakes they’d been raising in herbology had reached maturity and been made into a potion that tasted like sour dirt. The first thing Billy does when he wakes up is write to his parents. Then, he joins everyone in the Great Hall for breakfast. Kate gets up from the Gryffindor table as soon as she sees him, and runs up to give him a hug. Before he knows it, Teddy’s there, too.

“You’re okay!” Kate exclaims as she lets go of him. “Thank Merlin!”

“I know.” He grins at her. “I’m glad to be back.”

“You scared us.” Teddy adds. “So bad. You should've seen it-- Tommy found you, brought you in, and then everyone started accusing him of hurting you.”

Billy nods. “I know. I was conscious the entire team. It got boring, really, after a while.”

That's the most he’d tell them. After all, he hadn't exactly _meant_ to pry into their lives like that, to learn about their secrets. Also, it’d be impossible to explain since _he_ didn't even know he could do something like that. It's weird looking at either of them now. He wants to tell Teddy he’s sorry about his parents (and maybe wants to ask who the woman raising him is), and wants to ask Kate how her mother is holding up. And that's the worst part, he thinks, knowing he can't help them with their burdens because he isn't supposed to know.

They walk outside together. It’s a bright, sunny Saturday. There isn't a cloud in the azure sky, and the weather is warm. They go out to the lake, sitting beneath the tree Billy had claimed as his own during his first year. They talk for a while; Kate tells him about how Harry Potter had killed the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets-- “a _basilisk?_ McGonagall didn't say anything about that either”-- and how that was what had caused all of the petrifications. Apparently, their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had suffered a horrible accident involving a memory charm gone wrong while attempting to go down into the Chamber. He would not be missed.

“Isn’t it funny how we’ve had _two_ Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in two years?” Teddy asks. “It's as if the position is cursed or something.”

“Let’s see.” Kate starts, counting on her fingers. “One had the darkest wizard of all time growing on the back of his head, and the other was a bumbling, albeit pretty, phony. And they both tried to kill Harry Potter. What’s next, are they going to hire a muggle magician?”

“Maybe a vampire?” Billy offers. “Or a werewolf.”

“... Nah.”

They bid each other farewell once it gets dark outside. Billy heads back to his dorm, reveling in the absence of a hissing voice in the back of his mind. So that’s what it had been-- a basilisk. That's why he’d understood it; if his dream were any indication and not _just_ a dream, as he’d suspected, he can definitely understand snakes.

At least he’s not alone. But he just can't talk about it with Tommy.

The common room is nearly empty when he arrives; a few people sit scattered at its edges either reading or playing chess. Tommy sits at one of the large couches in front of the fireplace.

“Hey.” Billy sits down next to him.

“You're back.” Tommy offers him a grin. “You can move.”

Billy nods and finds himself grinning as well. They sit in a comfortable silence that Billy almost wishes he didn't want to break.


	11. family matters

Despite it being three years since their son was offered acceptance to a magical boarding school, Billy’s parents still find any and all sorts of magic fascinating. Billy can’t exactly blame them; he was more shocked about the moving pictures and animated chocolate frogs than he was by any spell taught during his first year. Naturally, though, when it comes to magic things, his parents, though curious, often have too many questions for him to answer accurately. That’s why he’s grateful for Teddy and his own mother whenever they meet at Diagon Alley.

“So are there special, enchanted cameras to take the pictures?” Billy overhears his father asking Ms. Altman at the table next to theirs. “Or are the pictures enchanted to move when they’re produced?”   
  
Billy snickers and shake his head at Teddy, who just grins. Their own copy of  _ The Daily Prophet  _ sits between their nearly empty glasses of butterbeer. Teddy reaches for the paper.

“I love your dad’s priorities.” He says as he focuses on the front page. “He has more questions about how the pictures move rather than the dangerous Azkaban escapee.” 

“We’re muggles, these things happen all the time in our world.” Billy snorts. “Just don’t let mom hear about it, though. She still can’t get over the giant monster living beneath the castle last year.”   
  
“Well, to be fair, it  _ did  _ petrify you.”   
  
“Yeah, but, things happen  _ every  _ year at Hogwarts. And they usually involve the loons they hire to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Teddy shakes his head and mutters something about how “well-adjusted” he is, and flips through the pages of the newspaper. The first few pages had been all about the aforementioned dangerous Azkaban escapee Sirius Black. According to Teddy, breaking out of Azkaban was both impossible and a death wish; it was more or less the wizard version of Alcatraz back when it still functioned as a prison. All factors considered, Billy supposes that makes the situation scarier than he’d originally given it credit for, but, still. Not his business. 

“Okay,  _ wow.”  _ Teddy huffs indignantly. “The Ministry’s judicial department is  _ really  _ lacking. Look at this.”   
  
He slides the newspaper towards him. Billy picks up his glass of butterbeer and downs it as he reads the headline.

_ SCARLET WITCH TO STAND TRIAL THIRTEEN YEARS AFTER CRIMES _

Billy raises a brow. “Who?”   
  
“The Scarlet Witch.” Teddy says as he takes the paper back. “It’s the name they gave to one of You-Know-Who’s crazier followers. Wanda ‘the Scarlet Witch’ Lehnsherr,” He reads. “Will stand trial thirteen years after her heinous crimes. Said crimes entail affiliation with the Dark Lord and the vicious murders of renowned Aurors Clint Barton and Scott Lang. Further charges include infanticide, as it is believed Lehnsherr sacrificed her two infant sons to the Dark Lord after falling out of favor with him.”   
  
“Lang.” Billy frowns. “That’s Cassie’s last name, isn’t it?”   
  
Teddy nods, a glum expression on his face. “She doesn’t like to talk about it.”   
  
“Figured.”   
  
Billy isn’t as close to Cassie as he’d like to be, but he can’t help but sympathize deeply. Maybe it’s because he knows-- even though he shouldn’t-- that Teddy has a similar story. After accidentally spying on him last year with some sort of weird magic he can’t even  _ begin  _ to comprehend-- or ask questions about, because it’s probably as normal a skill as talking to snakes (which he can  _ also  _ do)-- it was revealed that Teddy’s birth parents had both been Aurors that met their untimely deaths at the hands of Death Eaters. Billy hadn’t dared used his skill again, as it hurts him to have this knowledge and yet be unable to help. 

“Since willingly surrendering his daughter to the Ministry of Magic for her wrongdoings,” Teddy continues reading. “The Lehnsherr family patriarch, Erik Lehnsherr, has been secretive about the legal proceedings surrounding the case. Thus, the news of the trial has come as a shock to the wizarding community.”   
  
“He  _ willingly  _ surrendered his own daughter?” Billy asks incredulously.

“There’s a  _ whole  _ other theory behind that.” Teddy explains. “See, the Lehnsherrs are pretty well known dark wizards. The whole lot of them were followers of You-Know-Who. So, when You-Know-Who was defeated and the Ministry came after his followers, I’m guessing Erik Lehnsherr made a deal with them to pardon the rest of the family in exchange for his daughter. That’s what mom says, at least.”   
  


“That’s so slimey.” He wrinkles his nose.   
  
“And the worst part is they still have power.” Teddy sighs. “The son used to be a professional Quidditch player even  _ after  _ being suspected. The father still works high-up in the Ministry.” 

“Kind of like another dark wizarding family we know.”   
  
“Yeah.” Teddy snorts into his drink. “But the Malfoys are just liars. The Lehnsherrs have this false pretext of nobility and righteousness.” 

He flips to the back page of  _ The Prophet.  _ Billy helps him figure out the magic crossword that changed format if you get one wrong to the best of his ability. He only looks up when a waiter asks if he wants more butterbeer.    
  
“Tommy?” He looks up at him in shock. “What are you doing here?”   
  
The white-haired boy grins. “I kind of work here. For the time being, at least.” He looks at Teddy. “Is this a date or something?”   
  
Billy hates that he blushes, but the relieving-- maybe-- part is that Teddy does too. He ignores Tommy’s question. “What do you mean you work here?”   
  
“I ran away from home.” He answers, reaching for their glasses. “It’s… Complicated. Anyways, I got on the Knight Bus, it took me here, and Tom the innkeeper said I can stay as long as I help out with the pub. He pays me, of course, so get that look off your face, Altman.” 

“Sorry.” Teddy says sheepishly. “About you having to run away and all.”   
  
Tommy shrugs, but Billy sees the way he turns his face away from them. “It’s all good. Don’t really care much for my family, anyways.”   
  
The burden of nosiness really weighs on Billy now. Last year, he’d found out just how much Tommy didn’t care for his family, and how much Tommy’s family didn’t care for  _ him;  _ his mother was possibly the nastiest woman he’d ever met, and it seemed his father wasn’t coming back from Azkaban in the near future, and even if he were to, he doubts it would be good for his friend. If he weren’t so worried about where Tommy were headed from here, he would’ve congratulated him for finally leaving that awful situation. He clears his throat.

“What about after this?” He asks. “You said it’s only temporary.”   
  
Again, Tommy shrugs, but this time it’s less guarded. “Dunno. Ministry has to sort it out.”   
  
He leaves with their glasses. Billy leans in close to Teddy and whispers, “His mom is horrible. She uses magic on him as punishment.”

Teddy’s eyes widen. “Merlin. Good that he got away, isn’t it?” 

He nods. Well, Teddy doesn't need to know how he knows. Part of him feels bad for being a gossip, but he wants other people to recognize Tommy’s courage in recognizing his worth and making the choice to leave. Tommy comes back with their glasses full and sets them on the table. He pulls out the empty chair and takes a seat.

“I’m on break.” He explains to a scandalized Teddy. He slides the newspaper over the table and flips it back onto its front. “Huh. Ministry’s kind of busy, isn’t it? What with the escaped convicted criminal on the loose.”

“And the trial of another convicted criminal,” Teddy adds, flipping the pages for him. “The Ministry must be having a field day.”

Billy hadn’t notice the picture on the page. It’s the mugshot a dark-haired woman who he supposes might have been beautiful if it weren't for the way she resembles a deer caught in headlights; her wide eyes have bags beneath them, and her high cheeks look hollow. Her eyes shift nervously, and then focus straight ahead of her. Billy looks away despite knowing she isn’t actually looking at him. He remembers seeing this woman’s picture in the trophy room at Hogwarts; during her school years, it seemed that Wanda Lehnsherr had been a particularly gifted student-- as showcased by her Head Girl plaque. She’d been beautiful then. Now she gives the impression of a drowned person. 

Tommy makes a sound in the back of his throat as he skims the article. He closes the paper with a note of finality. “Well. Glad she hasn’t escaped, too. Then my case would never be sorted out, because the Ministry would be too busy tracking down two psychopaths.” 

He gets up to serve himself a butterbeer. They bid him goodbye that only lasts till tomorrow, when Billy sees Tommy at King’s Cross. He waves him over towards the spot where he waits with his parents for all the muggles to clear out so he can get to Platform 9 ¾ . 

“Is that Tommy? The one I bake cookies for every year?” His mother asks as the other boy comes over. Billy nods. She’d been wanting to meet him since she asked who the boy sitting with him and Teddy at the Leaky Cauldron had been. 

“Hey, Kaplan!” Tommy greets him, but then stiffens up as soon as he sees Billy’s mom. “And Mrs. Kaplan.”   
  
His mother smiles at him warmly. “Hello, Tommy. How are you?”   
  
Tommy blinks and opens his mouth as if he’d never been spoken to with respect by a mother. “Um, I’m fine.”    
  
“Let’s go.” Billy nudges him.

  
He waves goodbye to his mom, who, to his dismay, pulls him in with a hug and a kiss. Most friends would probably tease him, but he notices sadly that Tommy just looks down. To his surprise, his mom doesn’t just extend a hand to Tommy in goodbye, but then pulls him into a hug, an albeity light one, as well. Tommy looks like he doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Now, you take care.” She reaches out to part Billy’s hair. “Ever since last year, I’ve worried a lot. Stay safe and have a good trip, okay? You, too, Tommy. Take care.”   
  
Billy promises half-heartedly that he’ll stay out of trouble and mind his grades. Tommy, too, mutters a farewell, but looks stunned even as they phase through the brick wall and onto Platform 9 ¾. The Hogwarts Express and the compartment Billy had sat in since first year waits for them. 


	12. something wicked this way comes

The stormy ride to Hogwarts is uneventful till the train screeches to a halt that throws Billy across the compartment and right into Teddy. His face feels hot as the other boy helps him up, but the embarrassment takes a backseat when the compartment lights begin flickering. The hall lights follow suit, rapidly turning on and off, till the entire train is plunged into darkness barely permeated by the almost non-existent sunlight coming in from the window.

“What’s happened?” Cassie asks to no one in particular. The rest of the train had the same question, as general confusion echoed from every compartment.

Billy sits back down in his seat next to the window. He reaches out to wipe the foggy glass which had become near impossible to see through, but draws his hand back with a soft yelp as the condensation turns to sharp ice. Kate reaches over him and uses her sleeve to rub away some of the ice; outside, the sky looms with black, crackling storm clouds that swallows any weak sunlight there was to be had. She jumps when the train squeals beneath them as if it were trying to take off again, but can’t.

“Why’s it stopped?” Tommy frowns impatiently as he leans over both Kate and Billy to peer outside. Kate huffs indignantly, but doesn’t shove him off.  
  
“Reckon it might be the storm?” Billy offers just as a streak of lightning illuminates the sky before being smothered again by the clouds. Tommy flinches and sits back down. A shiver goes through Billy. “Um, is it just me, or did the temperature just drop into the negatives?”  
  
As ice starts to creep onto the glass of the compartment door and its handle, the train goes eerily silent. Billy can hardly hear his own breathing over the pounding of his heart against his ribs. Hopefully the wild pounding doesn’t echo through the train.

“Oh, my _God.”_ He whispers as he glances towards the door. “What is _that?”_  
  
A creature shrouded in a ragged black robe hovers outside the glass, nearly veiled in the ice and darkness, He suddenly feels as if all the energy to breathe has been siphoned out of him; the longer the thing stands there, as if contemplating them, the more dreadful the world and the very prospect of having to face it seems. He hears voices, whispers, swirl around him, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. They sound mournful, though, some of them are angry and rushed. A woman’s scream, tortured and choked, pierces through his ears, but he can’t bring himself to find the source or even question it. The creature outside the compartment prowls past it, and it’s only then that Billy forces himself to practically swallow air. He looks at his friends; all of them looks defeated and empty. A silvery glow emerges from a nearby compartment, and suddenly all the lights jolt back to life. The entire train breathes.

“What was that?” Billy repeats shakily. The trains starts up again, and the air warms up.

Teddy shakes his head. “Dementor.”  
  
“The… The things that guard Azkaban?” He asks dumbly. “But why here?”

No one has an answer. Tommy speaks up after a heavy pause. “Did anyone else hear… Voices?”  
  
Billy shifts to look at him. His face had gone nearly as white as his hair. His hands tremble ever-so-slightly.

“Voices?” Kate echoes. She looks nearly as broken as she did when finding out her mother’s condition-- another thing Billy isn’t supposed to know. She shakes her head.

“I couldn’t make out what they were saying.” Tommy continues. “It was as if people were arguing, and… And then there was this scream. A woman. Screaming as if something had been taken from her.”  
  
Billy goes cold again. Before he can say anything, though, Kate beats him to it.

“That’s… Not a good sign.” Everyone nods their agreeance.

Probably as good a sign as talking to snakes-- something Billy can do as well as Tommy. He’d never told anyone, and he doesn't think Tommy has either. He sits back in his seat, just now feeling heat pool back into his fingers. The remainder of the train ride goes by relatively fast; the castle finally comes into view behind a thick layer of fog. It gives off a sense of security and familiarity he’s grateful for. The welcome banquet starts with the Sorting, which led into a performance from the school’s choir. Billy grasps one of the singing toads firmly as it’s handed to him. It ribbits and looks up at him sourly. The lyrics to the song they sing now seem foreboding; _something wicked this way comes,_ taken straight from _Macbeth._

He joins Tommy back at the Slytherin table when they finish, ignoring the snide remarks from the House bullies for being in the choir. Dumbledore begins his usual start-of-term remarks; they usually include warning the students about some new danger and introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This year is no different, seeing as there’s Dementors prowling the castle, and a new professor. It’s the news of the scary prison guard monsters that make the Hall ripple with concern, though. An involuntary shiver runs down Billy’s spine as he thinks of how the Dementor on the train paused too long at their compartment, as if it had been meditating on entering. He glances over at Tommy. He’d tell him about the voices he heard when they were alone.

* * *

 

It isn’t till after midnight that their roommates have fallen asleep. Billy sneaks out of bed, parts Tommy’s curtains, and gently shakes the other boy awake. He’d been sprawled out and snoring lightly, but jolts awake at Billy’s touch.

  
“Bloody hell,” He mutters. “Can’t a man get some sleep around here?”  
  
“Sorry.” Billy apologizes softly. “I just wanted to talk about what happened on the train. With the Dementors. I-- I heard voices, too.”  
  
Tommy narrows his eyes at him through the mess of hair covering them. He sits up. “Yeah?”  
  
He nods. “I heard the woman screaming. And the voices-- I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but there was a lot of them.”  
  
“That’s weird.” Tommy decides.

“Hearing voices? Or that we both heard the same thing?”  
  
“Both. What do you think this means?”  
  
Billy takes a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll could look in the library, could do some research on Dementors? Or maybe we should tell a teacher--”  
  
“No.” Tommy’s answers firmly with a glare. “Kaplan, they’d think we’re crazy. It’s bad enough that last year--” He pauses sharply. “Never mind. Go back to bed, it’s probably nothing. Maybe just being in the same room.”  
  
“But no one _else_ heard voices.”  
  
He shrugs and lays back down, burrowing beneath his sheets. “As I said, it’s probably nothing. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be labeled as weird. ‘Night.”  
  
Billy takes that as a sign to go back to bed. He knows exactly what Tommy had been about to say, but doesn’t press any further. For some reason, it irks him that Tommy doesn’t seem to trust him enough to confide in him. He’s going to get these things out of him, he decides, so the other boy knows he isn’t completely alone.

 

* * *

 

The Divination classroom has a nauseating scent of incense. Billy can barely see ten feet ahead of him considering a thick haze of the stuff falls over the rather small room. Next to him, Tommy gags into his sleeve. He looks up at him with watering eyes.

“Ugh,” He starts, but interrupts himself with a sneeze. “Can’t they open a window in here?”  
  
“Opening the window would leave us vulnerable to distractions that would compromise our readings.” A woman with glasses so potent that make her watery eyes bug out of their sockets speaks from behind them. Had she been there this whole time? She fixes her owl-like gaze on Tommy. “Are you quite alright, my dear? I foretell you’re going to be ill.”  
  
“Yeah.” Tommy wipes at his eyes. “Don’t need palm reading to tell me that one.”

“Palm reading?” If the woman had feathers, Billy decides they’d be ruffled. “My dear boy, you've gotten ahead of yourself! Palmistry is a much more advanced form of Divination than what I am about to teach you today. I can see, however, that your mind is sharp and is your eagerness. It is my prediction that you will do well in this class.”  
  
Tommy huffs a “good to know” before plopping down at one of the fluffy armchairs near the front of the class. Billy takes the one opposite from his. A table sits between the two chairs. On top of it is a kettle, two mismatched teacups, and a chart for interpreting the tea dregs. He skims it over; an acorn for gold, a club for an unexpected attack, a cross for trials and suffering, and a falcon for a deadly enemy… The only positive symbol is the sun, which foretells great happiness. Really the kinds of things that make wizards feel warm and fuzzy inside. The owl-woman introduces herself as Professor Trelawney as soon as all the Slytherin third years find themselves situated. She then launches into an admittedly theatrical lecture about the “subtle science” of Divination-- “not all of you will have the marvelous gift of sight, children, but I foresee that at least two extraordinary of you will bear solemn testimony to this great and powerful force”-- and finally, after too many unnecessary adjectives, instructs them to have some tea. Billy wishes for some honey as the lukewarm, bitter Earl Grey goes down his throat. There’s still a good half of it left in his cup.  
  
“What’s this nonsense?” A familiar, snide voice that can only belong to Draco Malfoy calls out from somewhere in the back. “Am I supposed to be seeing something in the leaves?”

Billy turns back, sipping at his tea, to see Professor Trelawney shuffling towards him. She takes his cup and covers her hand with her mouth.

“What?” Draco frowns. “What is it, you bat?”  
  
“You will suffer from an attack on your life in the near future.” The woman utters, handing him back his cup. “My boy, do take care if you encounter any fantastic beasts.”  
  
Billy snorts at the look on Malfoy’s face. He drains his own cup and sets it down next to the chart; he squints at the dark dregs in an attempt to make out any figures in them. He looks up at Tommy, who looks to be in no rush to finish his tea. He raises a brow at him from over the table.

“You’re actually going through with this? It’s mad.”  
  
Billy shrugs. “This might be one of the least weird things I’ve done in the wizarding world.”  
  
Professor Trelawney comes up behind Tommy, effectively making him jump and spill his tea on himself. He curses, but she seems to care more about his dregs than his foul language. “Tell me what you see, Thomas.”  
  
“Well.” His starts much too seriously. “I see that I’m going to have to change robes right after this class unless I want people to think I couldn’t make it to the bathroom.”  
  
Billy tries to hide his grin. The girls behind them snicker. That probably spurs Tommy to continue. “And I also see that this tea’s gone a little cold.”  
  
Professor Trelawney just frowns at him. She reaches for Billy’s cup and studies the dregs as Billy studies her expression. Her bushy brows furrow.

“Interesting.” She decides, still analyzing the dregs. “I’ve never had a student draw a serpent before.”  
  
“A serpent?” Billy echoes. “That’s not on the chart, professor.”  
  
She hold out the cup for him to see. It’s pretty clear; the dregs form a long serpent eerily similar to the one on the Slytherin crest. An involuntary shiver runs through him.

“What does it mean?” He looks up at the woman.

“Rebirth, mostly.” She explains. “William, have you any knowledge if you’re a reincarnation?”  
  
Billy blinks. Across the table, Tommy heaves a long, drawn-out sigh. “Um, no?”  
  
“Well.” Professor Trelawney smiles at him, setting his cup down. “Perchance you are. Either that, or your life is in grave danger. Serpents are symbolic of both rebirth and transformations as they are death and deceit.”  
  
He glances back down at the tea dregs. A snake, the animal of Slytherin, the animal he can understand. Slytherin, the House he’d doubted his place in for two years, the House he currently finds himself in because the Sorting Hat insisted it was a legacy. A legacy, an inheritance, he can’t possibly have because there are no other wizards in his family-- much less dark wizards, as the Hat had said. Suddenly, _he_ feels ill.

“Give me that.” Tommy takes the cup as Trelawney walks towards another table. He glares at the dregs. “That’s no snake. That’s just a mess of leaves. I wouldn’t even bother with this, Kaplan. I can already see you losing sleep over it.”  
  
“You’re right.” Billy tries to placate him, but can’t shake the uneasy feeling welling up inside him. He takes the cup back and swirls the dregs around till they’re exactly what Tommy said-- leaves. “This isn’t real.”


	13. the boggart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Wolfie Moony McWerewolf III so much, u guys don't even know

Tommy was right-- Billy _did_ lose sleep over the snake in the dregs. In the nights following, he found that he could hardly fall asleep without being woken by some nasty nightmare about snakes. To make matters worse, their first Care of Magical creatures class had ended in Draco Malfoy getting clawed by a hippogriff. Normally, that’d be a cause for celebration, but Professor Trelawney’s prediction had come true. Who was to stay the one she’d made about Billy wouldn’t?  
  
“You’re awfully jumpy.” Tommy tells him at breakfast. “Are you thinking about those stupid tea leaves again?”  
  
He shakes his head. “I just couldn’t sleep well.” He looks up at the other boy; there are dark bags beneath his tired green eyes. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”  
  
“I’m sick.” He sniffles disdainfully. “It’s what inhaling all that incense did. Think I could drop out if I get Pomfrey to say I’m allergic to the stuff?”  
  
Billy’s owl swoops down and drops today’s copy of _The Daily Prophet_ on his toast. Thanks to Kate, they all have free subscriptions. Lately, though, he’s been skipping past the news pages and gone straight to the crosswords; everything for the past couple of weeks has either been about Sirius Black or the impending trial of the Scarlet Witch. Reading the news would be as if the Dementors prowling the campus didn’t serve as terrifying reminders of the very real, very dark things happening outside of Hogwarts’ enchanted walls. That was another recurring theme in Billy’s nightmares-- the hooded creatures that kept a menacing guard around the castle. Since the train, he hadn’t seen any more of them, but just the thought that they were quite literally outside his dormitory window made the snakes in his nightmares flicker into Dementors and back. It wasn’t so much the voices and screaming he’d heard that freaked him out-- it was more the feeling of overpowering dread that overcame him on the train, how it had felt as if he’d never experience happiness and warmth again.

They arrive to their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to find that all the desks and chairs had been pushed to the sides and corners of the classroom, leaving it empty save for a battered wardrobe. Some of the other Slytherins had arrived and were gathered around it, chattering excitedly.

“The Gryffindors said it’s a boggart.” A boy says. “Pretty cool, don’t you think?”  
  
“Pretty _dangerous_ is what I think.” The girl next to him responds snidely. “Honestly, where does Dumbledore get these mad teachers from? You’ve heard what they call this one, right? Loony Lupin.”  
  
Billy’s thoughts exactly. While he knows boggarts, shapeshifting creatures that take on the form of a person’s deepest fear, aren’t exactly dangerous in a controlled setting, the very fact that they’re _actually_ about to face a dark creature makes him wary. Tommy, however, doesn’t share his suspicion.

“A boggart?” He raises a brow, edging towards the now teetering wardrobe. “Blimey, and here I thought our only defenses against the Dark Arts were gonna be useless facts about Gilderoy Lockhart.”  
  
That earns him some laughs. Despite everything, Tommy wasn’t particularly hated in Slytherin House. It was something Billy had come to note over the past year; even though Malfoy and his friends were popular and nasty, not everyone had a bone to pick with Tommy. He could make people laugh, so that gave him some points, and the rumor that he’d opened the Chamber of Secrets probably earned him some respect even if it turned out to be false. Plus, Tommy had the ambition and drive of a Slytherin-- when it came to things he cared about, at least-- so, really, he was right at home. Billy often realizes, painfully, that had they not been friends, Tommy would probably be a little more popular.

Professor Remus Lupin certainly doesn’t _look_ mad. Rather, he looks pretty normal, if not somewhat pallid. Malfoy, who’d joined the class yesterday with a sling on his arm, has more to say, though as the professor introduces himself, the lesson, and the instructions to the class.

“Look at his robes.” Malfoy, who had apparently never been taught to whisper, snickers. “He dresses worse than our old house elf. Or just as bad as Shepherd."  
  
Barely concealed giggles come from the back of the class. Professor Lupin, however, looks unbothered.

“Mister Malfoy,” He calls him out politely. “Would you like to be our first volunteer to face the boggart?”

The ensuing silence says enough. Billy nudges Tommy playfully. The other boy had been smirking ever since Draco had become a victim to the hippogriff.

“No volunteers?” The professor makes his way to the wardrobe. “We’ll just go in order, then. But first, I have to ask each of you to visualize what you most fear. Clearly, now, seeing as the boggart will be confused since there’s so many of us. We’ll start with Mister Kaplan whenever he’s ready.”  
  
Well, there’s no point in going to the back of the line. The first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of his biggest fear is a snake; big, black, scaly, with glinting yellow eyes and fangs long enough to pierce through bone. He shudders involuntarily just thinking about it, and clutches tightly at his wand.

“What do you most fear, Billy?” Lupin asks him privately as the rest of the class tries to figure out their fears.

“Snakes.” He answers truthfully. “I know it’s kind of silly, being in Slytherin and all.”  
  
“Hmm.” He nods thoughtfully. “What is it about snakes that makes you so scared?”  
  
He shrugs, giving him the reason that requires the least explanation. “Um, well, last year a giant one petrified me. Kind of silly, as I said.”  
  
“Perfectly reasonable fear, no need to be ashamed of it.” He assures him. “Now, the boggart is repelled by laughter. As I told the class, you need to have it assume an amusing shape.”  
  
“Sorry, professor, but there’s not much I find amusing about giant snakes.” He offers sheepishly.  
  
“The snake itself doesn’t have to be amusing.” Lupin explains patiently. “As soon as you cast the charm, let your mind take over. Just concentrate. Hard. But if you’re not feeling up to it, you can sit out, if you’d like. I’d be out of my mind to force students to confront their phobias.”  
  
Billy blinks. Most teachers-- especially certain Potions masters-- wouldn’t give students the choice to sit out of something uncomfortable. But he shakes his head. “I want to do it.”

“Alright.” The professor nods. “When I open the wardrobe, you’re going to concentrate and raise your wand. What’s the charm?”  
  
_“Riddikulus.”_

“Good. I’ll give you till the count of three.”

He does exactly that before opening the wardrobe with a wave of his wand. The class had gathered in a tight semi-circle a good five feet behind Billy, watching raptly as a massive, scaly snake slithers lazily out of the wardrobe. Billy swallows heavily as the serpent comes to a stop at two feet in front of him. It rears its head menacingly and flashes its sharp fangs at him, causing him to stumble back involuntarily.

“Billy,” Professor Lupin calls out to him. “Concentrate.”  
  
The snake hisses haughtily at him. It advances, shaking the rattle on its tail. Faintly, Billy realizes it’s the same black as the dregs of the tea. He holds his wand out.

 _“Riddikulus,”_ He says shakily, but it only keep moving towards him. “ _Riddikulus.”_

Suddenly, it stops dead in its track; its body goes rigid and dissolves into a black smoke. He finally feels as if he can breathe, but the smoke, rather than dissipating out of sight, swirls high into the air till it takes on the ghastly form of a hooded creature. He hears the same voices from the train again, and the woman starts screaming and crying--  
  
_“RIDDIKULUS!”_ Billy barely hears himself over the pounding of his own pulse. With a loud _crack,_ the boggart Dementor dissolves as easily as it had formed just as the sunlight from the overarching windows shifts on him. The wardrobe door slams shut, making him jump. He still feels shaky, but glances back towards the class and the professor.

“Excellent, Billy.” Professor Lupin nods at him, but his expression is unreadable. He addresses the class, “Does anyone change their mind about volunteering?”  
  
Given that the student widely considered Slytherin’s sitting duck had just successfully faced a boggart, the other students shyly took their chances. Billy lingers towards the side with Tommy, watching as the boggart changes from a spider-- _crack!--_ to a rat-- _crack!--_ to one of those shrunken heads-- _crack!--_ a vulture, and so on as their classmates go up against it. Malfoy had declared that he wasn’t feeling well enough to do the assignment.

“It still really hurts.” He’d said to a pair of girls, and made a show of slowly flexing his arm while contorting his ugly face into an even uglier expression of fake pain. “I don’t think I’ll be able to lift my wand for weeks.”  
  
“He’s just scared he’ll have a hippogriff charge at him again.” Billy snorts, trying to suppress the growing feeling of dread inside him. Why had the boggart turned into a Dementor? He looks over at Tommy, who is fixated on the boggart currently in the form of a clown. “You alright, mate?”  
  
The other boy doesn’t even look at him. He scoffs, “I’ll be fine” before making his way to the line of students. He can practically see his muscles tense and coil as he pulls the sleeves of his robes back. Billy furrows his brow. Tommy doesn’t exactly give the impression of someone who scares easily, but seeing him standing there so stiff makes him think otherwise. When he finally has his turn, the boggart takes on the form of a sneering woman with limp blonde hair and a pointed face. With a shock, Billy realizes she’s Tommy’s mother. He’d met her twice-- once at Diagon Alley, and then in a vision-- but he wouldn’t have to in order to know that Tommy is terrified of her. Glumly, he comes to the realization that Tommy’s biggest, deepest fear is his mother’s wrath; in the vision he’d had of her last year, she’d used magic on her son as punishment.

Tommy stands glued to his spot with his wand clutched for dear life as his mother approaches him. She holds her own wand outstretched. A crackling white beam flies out of it, aimed straight for Tommy’s pale, terrified face--  
  
Billy rushes forward, ready to take the boggart on again, but Professor Lupin beats him to it; when he stands in front of Tommy, the boggart briefly turns into a glowing sphere that’s gotten rid of too quickly before Billy can make out what it is. Tommy still just stands there, dumbstruck. Lupin suggests for him to take a seat in one of the chairs at the back of the class. He doesn’t say anything when Billy follows suit.

“Tommy.” His own voice sounds strangely choked. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Fine.” The other boy mutters, yet again refusing to meet his eyes.

“Was that… Was that your mum?”  
  
Billy feels guilty asking it. His goal of getting Tommy to talk about what he’d seen last year still sits somewhere in the back of his mind, right below getting him to talk about the voices he’d heard when the Dementor stopped outside their compartment. Coaxing him into talking about the former seems a rather opportunistic thing to do, given the circumstance, but the boggart had presented him with an opportunity he’s ashamedly willing to take.

“Yeah, Shepherd, _was_ that your mum?”  
  
Of _course_ Malfoy would have something to say. Billy wants to hex the smirk off his face as he stands above them with one hand on his hip.

“That’s none of your business, Malfoy.” Tommy growls, jumping to his feet. He gets so close to Malfoy that he backs up into Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
“Tommy--” Billy warns, but does he really mean it? Tommy had put up with a lot from Malfoy over the past three years, but he had to draw the line somewhere.

“Poor little Tommy,” Draco snickers and completely ignores Billy. He knits his brows and clutches his wand. “Scared of his mumsy. What’d you do to make her want to hex you like that, huh?”  
  
“Shut up.” Tommy points his own wand at him. “I’m serious, Malfoy.”  
  
“Oh, so you’ll hex me.” He grins down wickedly at the wand pointed at his chest. “Bet you’ll use something that tramp mother of yours used on you. Is that where all those bruises and scars came from? You’re such trash, Shepherd. Makes sense you come from trash, too.”

Billy stands next to Tommy. “Let’s see you go up there, then. So we can all have a laugh when the boggart turns into a hippogriff.”  
  
Malfoy looks taken aback. Billy just raises a brow and holds his own wand up.  
  
“Really, Kaplan?” He just snickers and has Crabbe and Goyle shove past the both of them when the rest of the class begins collecting their things. “Whatever. See you on the Quidditch pitch, Shepherd. Oh, wait,” He pauses. “You’re still benched.”

He saunters out of class with his brutish friends trailing behind him. Before he’s out the door, he throws his black cloak over his head, past his eyes, and wiggles his fingers threateningly at Billy, clearly trying to resemble a Dementor. He just rolls his eyes. Tommy, however, points his wand at the door, but then lowers it when he remembers they’re still in the presence of a teacher.

“Tommy?” Professor Lupin calls out to them as they gather their things. Billy wonders how much of that he’d seen. It isn’t exactly good behavior to point a wand at another student. “A word, please.”  
  
They exchange a glance. The last time a teacher had asked for a “word” with him had been his first year, in Potions, when Billy had supposedly thrown a jar of sloth brains at Malfoy and they’d both been blamed for it. That particular incident had earned them three weeks of detention and spots on Snape’s long list of detested students. He has a feeling, though, that Lupin is much more forgiving than Snape. He offers Tommy a reassuring nod and heads to his next class himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys heard that theory where the Dementors are so attracted to Harry bc he's a horcrux, making him both more susceptible to them and more innately afraid of them??

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and kudos!


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